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UN'ITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



ANALOGY OF RELIGION. ^^^^ 
tA^^ /^^. /^^/ 



NATURAL AND REVEALED 



TO THE 



CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. 
BY JOSEPH J3UTLER, LL. D, 

JLiTE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. 
WITH AN 

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

BT ALBEKT BARNES. 

EJuB (analogifiB) beec vis est, ui id quoi.l dubium eat, ad aliquid simile de quo noii 
quaBritur, referat ; lit incena cenis prober Quint. Inst. Orat. I. 1. c. 6, 

Tenth Edition. 

NEW YORK, 
' PUBLISHED BY DAYTOlX & SAXTOX 

r.'sijc-essor.s to Gould. Xe^vman & Saxton,> 
COK>EB 0? VVLTON AND NASSAU STREETS 



J84L 



Entered accorl ngto the Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by Dayton & 
Saxtg::, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Sonthern Dis- 
trict of the State of New York. 



TO THE 

RIGHT HONOURABLE 

CHARLES, LORD TALBOT, 

BARON OF HENSOL, 

LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
THE FOLLOWING 

TREATISE 

IS, WITH ALL RESPECT, INSCRIBED 

:N ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF THE HIGHEST OBLIGATIONS 

TO THE LATS 

LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, 

AND TO 

HIMSELF, 

BY HIS lordship's MOST DUTIFUL, 
MOST DEVOTED, 
AND MOST HUMBLE SERVANT, 

JOSEPH BUTLER. 



CONTENTS. 



LvTRODucTORY EssAY, by Albert Barnes, • • • . vii 

Life of Dr. Butler, by Dr. Kippis, 63 

Preface, by Bishop Halifax, 69 

Advertisement, , 103 

In'troduction, . . , . , , , , .105 



PART I. 
OF NATURAL RELIGION. 



CHAP. L 

Of a Future Lite^ . . . . • . . .115 

CHAP. IL 

Ot tlie Government of God by Rewards and Punishments ; and 
particularly of the latter, . . . , , . . 1 30 

CHAP. III. 

Of the Moral Government of God, . . * ^ ,140 

CHAP. IV. 



Of a State of Probation, as implying Trials Difficulties, and 
Danger, , c . 160 

CHAP. V. 

Of a State of Probation, as intended for Moral Discipline and 
improvement, 167 

CHAP.VL 

On the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing Practice,' 186 
CHAP. VIL 

Of the Government of God, considered as a scheme, or Con- 
stitution, imperfectly comprehended, 199 

Conclusion, 209 



CONTENTS. 

PART. II. 

OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
CHAP. L 

Of the Importance of Christianity, . . • >. . 216 
CHAP. IL 

Of the supposed Presumption against a itevelation considered 
as Miraculous, ^30 

CHAP. IIL 

Of our Incapacity of judging" what were to be ejcpected in a 
Revelation; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it must 



contain Things appearing liable to Objections, . . . 236 
CHAP. IV. 

Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme, or Constitution, imper- 
fectly comprehended, 249 

CHAP. V. 

Of the particular System of Christianity ; the appointment of a 
Mediator, and the Redemption of the World by him, . . 25o 

CHAP. VI. 

Of the Want of Universality in Revelation ; and of the. supposed 
Deficiency in the proof of it, 272 

CHAP. VII. 

Of the Darticular evidence for Christianity. . • . . 288 
CHAP. VIII. 

Of the objections which may be made against arguing from llie 
Analogy of "Nature to Religion, 317 

Conclusion^ 327 



TWO DISSERTATIONS ON PERSONAL IDENTITY, 

Dissert 1 33^1 

Dissert II. . ........ 340 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 

BY ALBERT BARNES. 



[Note. The following Essay was originally prepared as a Review of 
Butler's Analogy, for the Quarterly Christian Spectator, and appeared in 
that work in the Numbers for December, 1830, and March, 1831. With 
some slight alterations and additions, it is now reprinted as an Introductory 
Essay to this Edition of the Analogy.] 

Philadelphia, Sept. 6, 1832. 

In directing the attention of our readers to the great work 
whose title we have placed at the head of this article, we suppose 
we are rendering an acceptable service chiefly to one class. The 
ministers of religion, we presume, need not our humble recom- 
mendation of a treatise so well known as Butler's Analogy. It 
will not be improper, however, to suggest that even our clerical 
readers may be less familiar than they should be, with a work 
which saps all the foundations of unbelief; and may, perhaps, 
have less faithfully carried out the principles of the Analogy, and 
interwoven them less into their theological system, than might 
reasonably have been expected. Butler already begins to put on 
the venerable air of antiquity. He belongs, in the character of 
his writings at least, to the men of another age. He is abstruse, 
profound, dry, and, to minds indisposed to thought, is often wea- 
risome and disgusting. Even in clerical estimation, then, his 
work may sometimes be numbered among those repulsive monu- 
ments of ancient wisdom, which men of this age pass by indis- 
criminately, as belonging to times of barbarous strength and 
unpolished warfare. 

But our design in bringing Butler more distinctly before the 
public eye, has respect primarily to another class of our readers. 
In an age pre-eminently distinguished for the short-lived produc- 
tions of the imagination ; when reviewers feel themselves bound 
to serve up to the public taste, rather the deserts and confectiona- 
ries of the literary world, than the sound and wholesome fare of 
other times ; when, in many places, it is even deemed stupid and 
old-fashioned to notice an ancient book, or to speak of the wis- 
dom of our fathers ; we desire to do what may lie in our power 
to stay tne headlong propensities of the times, and recal the pub- 
lic mind to the records of past wisdom. We have, indeed, no 
blind predilection for the principles of other days. We bow down 
before no opinion because it is ancient. We even feel and 
believe, that in all the momentous questions pertaining to morals, 
politics, science, and religion, we are greatly in advance of past 
ages. And our hearts expand with joy at the prospect of still 
greater simplicity and clearness, in the statement and defence 
of the cardinal doctrines of the reformation. Most of the monu- 



viu 



INTRODUCTOIIY ESSAY, 



ments of past wisdom, we believe capable of improvement in 
these respects. Thus we regard the w^orks of Luther, Calvin, 
Beza, and Owen. We look on them as vast repositories of 
learning, piety and genius. In the great doctrines which these 
works were intended to support, we do firmly believe. Still, 
though we love to linger in the society of such men ; and though 
our humble intellect bows before them, as in the presence of 
transcendent genius, yet we feel that in som.e things their views 
were darkened by the habits of thinking of a less cultivated age 
than this ; that their philosophy was often wrong, while the doc- 
trines which they attempted to defend by it were still correct; 
and that even they would have hailed, on many topics, the 
increased illumination of later times. Had modern ways of 
thinking been applied to their works ; had the results of a deeper 
investigation into the laws of the mind, and the principles of 
biblical criticism, been in their possession, their works would 
have been the most perfect records of human wisdom which the 
world contains. 

Some of those great monuments of the power of humaiv 
thought, however, stand complete. By a mighty effort of genius, 
their authors seized on truth ; they fixed it in permanent forms; 
they chained dovv^n scattered reasonings, and left them to be sur- 
veyed by men of less mental stature and far feebler powers. It 
is a proof of no mean talent now to be able to follow v»^here they 
lead, to grasp in thought, what they had the power to originate. 
They framed a complete system at the first touch ; and ail that 
remains for coming ages, corresponds to what Johnson has said 
of poets in respect to Homer, to transpose their arguments, new 
name their reasonings, and paraphrase their sentiments.-^ The 
works of such men are a collection principles to be carried into 
every region of morals and theology, as a standard of all other 
views of truth. Such a distinction v/e are disposed to give to 
Butler's Analogy; and it is because we deem it worthy of such a 
distinction, that we now single it out from the great vrorks of the 
past, and commend it to the attention of our readers. 

There are two great departments of investigation, respecting 
the " analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature.' 
The one contemplates that analogy as existing between the 
declarations of the Bible, and ascertained facts in the structure 
of the globe, — the organization of the animal system, — the me- 
morials of ancient history, — the laws of light, heat, and gravita- 
ion, — the dimensions of the earth, and the form and motion of 
the heavenly bodies. From all these sources, objections have 
been derived against revelation. The most furious attacks have 
been made, at one time by the geologist, and at another by the 
astronomer; on one pretence by the antiquarian, and on another 
by the chymist, against some part of the system of revealed truth. 
Yet never have any assaults been less successful. Every effort 
of this kind has resulted in the establishment of this great truth, 



Johnson. Preface to Shakspeare. 



.iTEOOTCTOET ESS AT. 



that no man has ye-: commenced an investigation of the works 
of nature, for the purpose of assailing revelation, who did not 
altimately exhibit important facts in its confirmation, just in 
proportion to his eminence and success in his own department 
of inquiry. We are never alarmed, therefore, when we see an 
infidel philosopher of real talents, commence an investigation 
into the works of nature. We hail his labours as destined ulti- 
mately to be auxiliary to the cause of truth. We have learned 
that here Christianity has nothing to fear ; and men of science, 
we believe, are beginning to understand that here infidelity has 
nothing to hope. As a specimen of the support which Chris- 
tianity receives from the researches of science, we refer our 
readers to Ray's Wisdom of God, to Paley's Natural Theology, 
and to Dick's Christian Philosopher. 

The other department of investigation to which we referred, is 
that which re] ^es to the analogy of revealed truth to the actual 
facts exhibited in the moral government of th world. This is the 
department which Butler has entered, and which he has so suc- 
cessfully explored. It is obvious that the first is a wider field in 
regard to the number of facts which bear on the analogy: the 
latter is more profound and less tangible in relation to the great 
subjects of theological debate. The first meets more directly the 
open and plausible objections of the blasphemer; the latter 
represses the secret infidelity of the human heart, and silences 
more effectually the ten thousand clamours which are accustomed 
to be raised against the peculiar doctrines of the Bible. The first 
is open to successive advances, and will be so, till the whole 
physical structure of the world is fully investigated and known. 
The latter, we may almost infer, seems destined to rest where it 
now is, and to stand before the world as complete as it ever will 
be, by one prodigious effort of a gigantic mind. Each successive 
chymist, antiquarian, astronomer, and anatomist, will throw light 
on some great department of human knowledge, to be moulded 
to the purposes of religion, by some future Paley, or Dick, or 
Good ; and in every distinguished man of science, whatever may 
be his religious feelings, we hail an ultimate auxiliary to the 
cause of truth. Butler, however, seems to stand alone. No 
adventurous mind has attempted to press his great principles of 
thought, still further into the regions of moral inquiry. Though 
the subject of moral government is better understood now than 
it was in his day ; though light has been thrown on the doctrines 
of theology, and a perceptible advance been made in the know- 
ledge of the laws of the mind, yet whoever now wishes to know 
" the analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature," 
has nowhere else to go but to Butler, — or if he is able to apply 
the principles of Butler, he has only to incorporate them with his 
own reasonings, to furnish the soluti^ of those facts and diffi- 
culties that " perplex mortals." We do not mean by this, that 
Butler has exhausted the subject. We mean only that no man 
has attempted to carry it beyond the point where he left it ; and 
that his Avorkj though not in our view as complete as modern 



INTRODUCTOKY ESSAY. 



habits of thought would permit it to be, yet stands like one oi 
those vast piles of architecture commenced in the middle ages 
proofs of consummate skill, of vast power, of amazing wealth, yet 
in some respects incomplete or disproportioned, but which no one 
since has dared to remodel, and which no one, perhaps, has had 
either the wealth, power, or genius, to make more complete. 

Of Butler, as a man, little is known. This is one of the many 
cases Y/here we are compelled to lament the want of a full and 
faithful biography. With the leading facts of his life as a parish 
priest and a prelate, we are indeed made acquainted. But here 
our knowledge of him ends. Of Butler as a man of piety, of the 
secret, practical operations of his mind, we know little. Now it 
is obvious, that we could be in possession of no legacy more 
Valuable in regard to such a man, than the knowledge of the 
secret feelings of his heart ; of the application of his own modes 
of thinking to his own soul, to subdue the ever- varying forms of 
human weakness and guilt ; and of his practical w^ay of obvia- 
ting, for his personal comfort, the suggestions of unbelief in his 
own bosom. This fact we know, that he was engaged upon his 
Analogy during a period of tw^enty years. Yet we know^ nothing 
uf the effect on his own soul, of the mode in which he blunted 
and warded off the poisoned shafts of infidelity. Could we see 
the internal organization of his mind, as we can now see that of 
Johnson, could we trace the connexion between his habits of 
thought and his pious emotions, it would be a treasure to the 
world equalled perhaps only by his Analogy, and one which w^e 
may in vain hope now to possess. The true purposes of biogra- 
phy have been hitherto but little understood. The mere external 
events pertaining to great men are often of little value. They 
are ivithout the mind, and produce feelings unconnected with any 
important purposes of human improvement. Who reads now 
with any emotion except regret that this is all he can read of 
such a man as Butler, that he w^as born in 1692, graduated at 
Oxford in 1721, preached at the Eolls till 1726, was made bishop 
of Durham in 1750, and died in 1752 ? We learn, indeed, that 
he was high in favour at the university, and subsequently at 
court; that he w^as retiring, modest and unassuming in his 
deportment ; and that his elevation to the Deanery of St. Paul's, 
and to the princely See of Durham, was not the effect of ambi- 
tion, but the voluntary tribute of those in power to transcendent 
talent and exalted, though retiring, worth. An instance of his 
modest and unambitious habits, given in the record of his life, 
is worthy of preservation, and is highly illustrative of his charac- 
ter. For seven years he was occupied in the humble and labo- 
rious duties of a parish priest, at Stanhope. His friends regret- 
ted his retirement, and sought preferment for him. Mr. Seeker, 
an intimate friend of Butler, being made chaplain to the king, in 
1732, one day in conversation with Queen Caroline took occasion 
to mention his friend's name. The queen said she thought he 
was dead, and asked Archbishop Blackburn if that was not the 
case. His reply was, " No, madam, but he is buried." He wa 



INTRODUCTORY ESSA.T. 



thus raised again to notice, and ultimately to high honcjrs, in 
the hierarchy of the English church. 

Butler was naturally of a contemplative and somewhat melan- 
choly turn of mind. He sought retirement, therefore, and yet 
needed society. It is probable that natural inclination, as well 
as the prevalent habits of unbelief in England, suggested the 
plan of his Analogy. Yet though retiring and unambitious, he 
was lauded in the days of his advancement, as sustaining the 
episcopal office with great dignity and splendour ; as conducting 
the ceremonies of religion with a pomp approaching the gran- 
deur of the Roman Catholic form of worship ; and as treating the 
neighbouring clergy and nobility with the " pride, pomp, and cir- 
cumstance," becoming, in their view, a minister of Jesus, trans- 
formed into a nobleman of secular rank, and reckoned among 
the great officers of state. These are, in our view, spots in the 
life of Butler ; and all attempts to conceal them, have only rendered 
them more glaring. No authority of antiquity, no plea of th*i 
grandeur of imposing rites, can justify the pomp and circum- 
stance appropriate to an English prelatical bishop, or invest with 
sacred authority the canons of a church, that appoints the hum- 
ble ministers of him who had not where to lay his head, to the 
splendours of a palace or the pretended honours of an archiepiscd- 
pal throne — to a necessary alliance, under every danger to per- 
sonal and ministerial character, with profligate noblemen, or 
intriguing and imperious ministers. But Butler drew his title to 
memory in subsequent ages, neither from the tinsel of rank, the 
staff and lawn of office, nor the attendant pomp and grandeur aris- 
ing from the possession of one of the richest benefices in Eng- 
land. Butler the prelate will be forgotten. Butler the author of 
the Analogy will live to the last recorded time. 

In the few remains of the life of Butler, we lament, still more 
than any thing we have mentioned, that we learn nothing of his 
habits of study, his mode of investigation, and especially the pro' 
cess by which he composed h.s Analogy. We are told indeed 
that it combines the results of his thoughts for twenty years, and 
his observations and reading during that long period of his life. 
He is said to have wTitten and re-written different parts of it, to 
have studied each Vv^ord, and phrase, until it expressed precisely 
his meaning and no more. It bears plenary evidence, that it 
must have been written by such a condensing and epitomizing 
process. Any man may be satisfied of this, who attempts to 
express the thoughts in other language than that employed in 
the Analogy. Instinctively the sentences and paragraphs will 
swell out to a much greater size, and defy all the powers we 
possess to reduce them to their primitive dimensions, unle:;s 
they be driven within the precise enclosures prescribed by the 
mind of Butler. We regret in vain that tbis is all our know- 
ledge of the mechanical and mental process by wbich this book 
was composed. We are not permitted to see him at his toil, tc 
mark the workings of his mind, and to learn the art of looking 
intensely at a thought, until we see it standing alone, aloof from 



n^TE^ODUCTOKY ESSAY. 



all attendants, and prepared for a permanent location where the 
author intended to fix its abode, to be comtemplated as he view- 
ed it, in all coming ages. We can hardly repress cur indigna- 
tion, that those who undertake to ^vrite the biography of such 
gifted men, should not tell us less of their bodies, their trappings, 
their honours and their offices, and more of the workings of the 
spirit, the process of subjecting and restraining the native wan- 
derings of the mind. Nor can we suppress the sigh of regret 
that he has not himself revealed to us, what no other man could 
have done : and admitted subsequent admirers to the iniimacy ol 
friendship, and to a contemplation of the process by which the 
Analogy was conceived and executed. Over the past however it 
is in vain to sigh. Every man feels that hitherto we have had 
but little Biography. Sketches of the external circumstances ol 
)uany men vre have — genealogical tables without number, and 
without end — chronicled wonders, that such a man was born and 
died, ran through such a circle of honours, and obtained such a 
mausoleum to his memory. But histories of miud we have not ; 
and for all the great purposes of knowledge, we should know as 
much of the man. if we had not looked upon the misnamed 
biography. 

We now take leave of Butler as a man, and direct our 
thoughts more particularly to his great work. Those were dark 
and portentous times which succeeded the reign of the second 
Charles. That voluptuous and witty monarch, had contributed 
more than any mortal before or since his time, to fill a nation 
with infidels, and debauchees. Corruption had seized upon the 
highest orders of the state ; and it flowed down on all ranks oi 
the community. Every grade in life had caught the infection 
of the court. Profligacy is alternately the parent and the child 
of unbelief. The unthinking multitude of courtiers and flatterers, 
that fluttered around the court of Charles had learned to scofl' at 
Christianity, and to consider it as not worth the trouble of anx- 
ious thought. The influence of the court extended over the na- 
tion. It soon infected the schools and professions : and perhaps 
there has not been a time in British history, when infidelity had 
become so general, and had assumed a form so malignant. It 
had attached itself to dissoluteness, deep, dreadful, and universal. 
It was going hand in hand with all the pleasures of a profligate 
court, it was identified with all that actuated the souls of Charles 
and his ministers; it was the kind of infidelity which fitted an 
unthinking age — scorning alike reason, philosophy, patient 
thought, and purity of morals. So that in the language of But- 
ler, it had come to be taken for granted by many persons, that 
Christianity is not so much as a subject of investigation, but that 
it is now at length, discovered to be fictitious, and accordingly 
they treat it, as if in the present age, this were an agreed point 
among all people of discernment, and nothing remained but to 
set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, -as it were 
by way of reprisals for its having so long interrupted the plea- 
sures of the world." In times of such universal profligacy and 



mTEODUCTOEY ESSAY. 



Xlil 



infidelity arose in succession, Locke, Newton, and Butler, the 
two former of whom we need not say have been unsurpassed in 
great powers of thought, and in the influence which they ex- 
erted on the sentiments of mankind. It needed such men to 
bring back a volatile generation to habits of profound thought in 
the sciences. It needed such a man as Butler, in our view not 
ii ferior in profound thought to either, and whose works will 
have a more permanent effect on the destinies of men, than both 
— to arrest the giddy steps of a nation, to bring religion from the 
palace of a scoffing prince and court to the bar of sober thought, 
and to show that Christianity was not undeserving of sober 
inquiry. This was the design of the Analogy. It was not so 
much to furnish a complete demonstration of the truth of reli- 
gion, as to show that it could not be proved to be false. It was 
to show that it accorded with a great, every where seen, system 
of things actually going on in the world ; and that attacks made 
an Christianity were to the same extent assaults on the course of 
nature, and of nature's God. Butler pointed the unbeliever to a 
grand system of things in actual existence, a ico/id with every 
variety of character, feeling, conduct and results — a system of 
things deeply mysterious, yet developing great principles, and 
bearing proof that it was under the government of God. He 
traced certain indubitable acts of the Almighty in a course of 
nature, whose existence could not be denied. Now if it could be 
showTi that Christianity contained like results, acts, and princi- 
ples ; if it was a scheme involving no greater mystery, and 
demanding a correspondent conduct on the part of man, it vrculd 
be seen that it had proceeded from the same author. In other 
words the objections alleged against Christianity, being equally 
applicable against the course of nature, could not be valid. To 
show this, was the design of Butler. In doing this, he carrien 
the war into the camp of the enemy. He silenced the objector's 
arguments; or if he still continued to urge them, showed him 
that with equal propriety they could be urged against the acknow- 
ledged course of things, against his own principles of conduct 
on other subjects, against what indubitably affected his condition 
here, and what might therefore affect his doom hereafter. 

V\e are fond of thus looking at the Bible as pa?^t of one vast 
plan of communicating truth to created intelligences. We know 
it is the fullest, and most grand, of all God's ways of teachmg 
men, standing amidst the sources of information, as the sun does 
amidst the stars of heaven, quenching their feeble glimmerings 
in the fulness of its meridian splendour. But to carry forward 
the illustration, the sun does, indeed, cause the stars of night to 
"hide their diminished heads," but we see in both but one sys- 
tem of laws ; and whether in the trembling of the minutest orb 
that emits its faint rays to us from the farthest bounds of space^ 
or the full light of the sun at noon-day, we trace the hand of the 
same God, and feel that " all are but parts of one stupendous 
whole." Thus it is with revelation. We know that its truths 
comprise all that the world elsewhere contains, that its authority 



XIV 



mTKODUCTORY ESSAY. 



is supreme over all the other sources of knowledge, and all 
the other facts of the moral system. But there are other 
sources of information — a vast multitude of facts that we 
expect to find in accordance with this brighter effulgence 
from heaven, and it is these facts which the Analogy brings to 
the aid of revelation. The Bible is in religion, what the tele- 
scope is in astronomy. It does not contradict any thing before 
known ; it does not annihilate any thing before seen ; it carries 
the eye forward into new worlds, opens it upon more splendid 
fields of vision, and displays grander systems, where we thought 
there was but the emptiness of space, or the darkness of illimit- 
able and profound night ; and divides the milky way into vast 
clusters of suns and stars, of worlds and systems. In all the 
boundlessness of these fields of vision, however, does the tele- 
scope point us to any new laws of acting, any new principle by 
which the universe is governed ? The astronomer tells us not. 
It is the hand of the same God which he sees, impelling the new 
wwlds that burst on the view in the immensity of space, with 
the same irresistible and inconceivable energy, and encompass- 
mg them with the same clear fields of light. So we expect to • 
find it in revelation. We expect to see plans, laws, purposes, 
actions and results, uniform with the facts in actual existence 
before our eyes. Whether in the smiles of an infant, or the 
wrapt feelings of a seraph ; in the strength of manhood, or the 
power of Gabriel; in the rewards of virtue here, or the crown of 
glory hereafter, we expect to find the Creator acting on one grand 
principle of moral government, applicable to all these facts, and 
to be vindicated by the same considerations. 

When we approach the Bible, we are at once struck with a 
most striking correspondence of plan to that which obtains in the 
natural world. When we teach theology in our schools we do it 
by system, by form, by technicalities. We frame what we call 
a body of divinity,'' expecting all its parts to cohere and agree. 
We shape and clip the angles and points of our theology, till they 
shall fit, like the polished stones of the temple of Solomon, into 
their place. So when we teach astronomy, botany, or geogra- 
phy, it is by a regular system before us, having the last discove- 
ries of the science locat(3d in their proper place. But how differ- 
ent is the plan, which, ia each of these departments, is pursued 
by infinite wisdom. The truths which God designs to teach us, 
lie spread over a vast compass. They are placed without much 
apparent order. Those of revelation lie before us, just as the 
various facts do, which go to make up a system of botany or 
astronomy. The great Author of nature has not placed all flovv^- 
ers in a single situation, nor given them a scientific arrange- 
ment. They are scattered over the wide world. Part bloom on 
the mountain, part in the valley; part shed their fragrance near 
the running stream ; part pour their sweetness in the desert air 
^'in the solitary waste where no man is;" part climb in vines to 
giddy heights, and part are found in the bosom of the mighty 
waters. He that forms a theory of botany must do it, therefore 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



XV 



with hardy toil. He will find the materials^ not the system^ made 
ready to his hands. He Avill exhaust his life perhaps in his 
labour, before the system stands complete. Why should we not 
expect to find the counterpart of all this in religion? When we 
look at the Bible, we find the same state of things. At first but 
a ray of light beamed upon the dark path of our apostate parents, 
wandering from paradise. The sun that had stood over their 
heads in the garden of pleasure, at their fall sunk to the Avest 
and left them in the horrors of a moral midnight. A single rav, 
in the promise of a Saviour, shot along their path, and directed 
to the source of day. But did God reveal a w^iole system ? Di4 
he tell them all the truth that he knew? Did he tell all that we 
know ? He did just as v\'e have supposed in regard to the first 
botanist. The eye was fixed on one truth distinctly. Subse- 
quent revelations shed new light; advancing facts confirmed 
preceding doctrines and promises; rising prophets gave confiim- 
ation to the hopes of men ; precepts, laws, and direct revelations 
rose upon the world, until the system of revealed truth is now 
complete. Man has all he can have, except the facts which the 
progress of things is yet to develope in confirmaiion of the system ; 
just as each new budding flower goes to confirm the just princi- 
ples of the naturalist, and to show what the system is. Yet how 
do we possess the system? As arranged, digested, and reduced 
to order? Far from it. We have the book of revelation just 
as we have the book of nature. In the beginning of the Bible, 
for example, we have a truth abstractly taught^ in another part 
illustrated in the life of a prophet; as v\'e advance it is confirmed 
by the fuller revelation of the Saviour or the apostles, and we 
find its full development only when the whole book is complete. 
Here stands a law; there a promise; there a profound mystery, 
unarranged, undigested, yet strikingly accordant w^ith a multitude 
of correspondent views in the Bible, and with as many in the 
moral world. Now here is a mode of communication, which 
imposture would have carefully avoided, because detection, it 
would foresee, must, on such a plan, be unavoidable. It seems 
to us that if men had intended to impose a system on the world, 
it would have been somewhat in the shape of our bodies oJ divi- 
nity, and therefore very greatly unlike the plan which we actu- 
ally find in the Bible. At any rate, we approach the Scriptures 
with this strong presumption in favour of its truth, that it accords 
precisely with w^hat we see in astronomy, chymistry, botany, 
and geography, and that the mode of constructing systems 
in all these sciences, is exactly the same as in dogmatical 
theology. 

We have another remark to make on this subject. The bota- 
nist does not shape his facts. He is the collector, the arranger, 
not the originator. So the framer of systems in religion shoula 
oe — and it is matter of deep regret that such he has 7iot been. He 
should be merely the collector, the arranger, not the originator 
of the doctrines of the gospel. Though then we think him of 
some importance, yet we do not set a high value on his labours 



mXEODUCTORY ESSAY. 



We honour the toils of a man who tells of the uses, beauties and 

medicinal properties of the plant, far more than of him who 
merely declares its rank, its order, its class in the Linnsean sys- 
tem. So in theology, we admire the greatness of mind which 
can bring out an original truth, illustrate it, and show its proper 
bearing on the spiritual interests of our race, far more than we 
do the plodding chiseller who shapes it to its place in his system. 
It makes no small demand on our patience, when v*'e see the sys- 
tem-maker remove angle after angle, and apply stroke after 
stroke, to some great mass of truth which a mighty genius has 
struck out, but which keen-eyed and jealous orthodoxy will not 
admit to its proper bearing on the souls of men, until it is located 
in a creed, and cramped into some frame-work of faith, that has 
been reared around the Bible. Our sympathy with such men as 
Butler, and Chalmers, and Foster, and Hall, is far greater than 
with Turretine or Ridgely. With still less patience do we listen 
to those whose only business it is to shape and reduce to pre- 
scribed form : who never look at a passage in the Bible or a fact 
in nature, without first robbing it of its freshness, by an attempt 
to give it a sectarian location : — who never stumble on an ori- 
ginal and unclassified idea, without asking whether the system- 
maker had left any niche for the late-born intruder ; and who 
applies to it all tests, as to a non-descript substance in chymistry, 
m order to fasten on it the charge of an aflinity with some 
rejected confession, or some creed of a suspected name. This is 
to abuse reason and revelation, for the sake of putting honour on 
creeds. It is to suppose that the older creed-makers had before 
them all shades of thought, all material and mental facts, all 
knowledge of what mind has hccn and can he, and all other know- 
ledge of the adaptedness of the Bible, to every enlarged and fluc- 
tuating process of thought. It is to doom the theologian to an 
eternal dwelling in Greenland frost and snows, instead of sending 
him forth to breathe the mild air of freedom, and to make him a 
large-minded and fearless interpreter of the oracles of God. 

It is not our intention to follow the profound author of the 
Analogy through his laboured demonstrations, or to attempt to 
offer an abridged statement of his reasoning. Butler, as we have 
already remarked, is incapable of abridgement. His thoughts 
are already condensed into as narrow a compass, as the nature 
of language will admit. All that we purpose to do, is to give a 
specimen of the argument from analog}' in support of the Chris- 
tian religion, without very closely folio win g the book before us. 

The main points at issue between Christianity and its opposers 
are, whether there is a future state ; whether our conduct here 
will affect our condition there ; whether God so controls things 
as to reward and punish ; whether it is reasonable to act with 
reference to our condition hereafter; whether the favour of God 
is to be obtained with, or without the mediation of another ; 
whether crime and suflering are indissolubly united in the moral 
government of God ; and whether Christianity is a scheme in 
accordance with the acknowledged laws of the universe, and is 



INTRODUCTORy ESSAY. 



xvn 



supported by evidence so clear as to make it proper to act on the 
belief of its truth. 

Infidelity, in its proper form, approaches man with the decla- 
ration that there cannot be a future state. It affirms, often with 
much apparent concern, that there can be no satisfactory evi- 
dence of what pertains to a dark, invisible, and distant world ; 
that the mind is incompetent to set up landmarks along its future 
course, and that we can have no certain proof that in that dark 
abyss, we shall live, act, or think at all. It affirms that the 
whole analogy of things is against such a supposition. AVe have 
no evidence, it declares, that one of all the miJions who have 
died, has lived beyond the grave. In sickness, and old age, it is 
said the body and soul seem alike to grow feeble and decay, and 
both seem to expire together. That they ever exist separate, it 
is said, has not been proved. That such a dissolution and sepa- 
rate existence should take place, is affirmed to be contrary to the 
analogy of all other things. That the soul and body should be 
united again, and constitute a single being, is said to be Vvdthout 
a parallel fact in other things, to divest it of its inherent impro- 
bability. 

Now let us suppose for a moment that, endued with our pre-' 
sent powers of thought, we had been united to bodies of far fee- 
bler frame and much more slender dimensions, than we now 
inhabit. Suppose that our spirits had been doomed to inhabit 
the body of a crawling reptile, scarce an inch in length, prone on 
the earth, and doomed to draw out our little length to obtain loco- 
motion from day to day, and scarce noticeable by the mighty 
beings above us. Suppose in that lowly condition, as we con- 
templated the certainty of our speedy dissolution, we should look 
upon our kindred reptiles, the partners of our cares, and should 
see their strength gradually waste, their faculties grow dim, their 
bodies become chill in death. Suppose now it should be revealed 
to us, that those bodies should undergo a transformation; that at 
no great distance of time they should start up into new being ; 
that in their narrow graves there should be se-en the evidence of 
returning life ; and that these same deformed, prone, and decay- 
ing fram.es, should be clothed with the beauty of gaudy colours, 
be instinct with life, leave the earth, soar at pleasure in a new 
elemcQt, take their rank in a new order of beings, be divested of 
all that was offensive and loathsome in their old abode in the 
eyes of'other beings ; and be completely dissociated from all the 
plans, habits, relations and feelings of their former lowly condi- 
tion. We ask w^hether against this supposition there v/ould not 
lie all the objections, which have ever been alleged against the 
doctrine of a resurrection, and a future state ? Yet the world has 
long been familiar with changes of this character. The changes 
which animal nature undergoes to produce the gay colours of the 
butterfly, have as much antecedent improbability as those per- 
taining to the predicted resurrection, and for aught that we ca^ 
see, are improbabilities of precisely the same nature. So in a 
case still more in point. No two states which revelation has 



xviii 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



presented, as actually contemplated in the conditiou of man, are 

more unlike than those of an unborn infant, and of a hoary man 
ripe with wisdom and honours. To us it appears that the state 
of the embryo, and that of Newton, Locke, and Bacon, have at 
least, as much dissimilarity, as those between man here, and 
man in a future state. Grant that a revelation could be made to 
such an embryo, and it would be attended with all the difficulties 
that are supposed to attend the doctrine of revelation. That this 
unformed being should leave the element in which it commences 
its existence ; that it should be ushered into another element 
with powers precisely adjusted to its new state, and useless in its 
first abode — like the eye, the ear, the hand, the foot ; that it 
should assume relations to hundreds, and thousands of other 
beings at first unknown, and these, too, living in what to the 
embryo must be esteemed a different world ; that it should be 
capable of traversing seas, of measuring the distances of stars, 
of guaging the dimensions of suns ; that it could calculate with 
unerring certainty the conjunctions and oppositions, the transits 
and altitudes of the vast wheeling orbs of immensity, is as 
improbable as any change, which man, under the guidance of 
revelation, has yet expected in his most sanguine moments. 
Yet nothing is more familiar to us. So the analogy might be 
run through all the changes which animals and vegetables exhi- 
bit. Nor has the infidel a right to reject the revelations of 
Christianity - respecting a future state, until he has disposed 
of facts of precisely the same nature with which our w^orld 
abounds. 

But are we under a moral government? Admitting the pro- 
bability of a future state, is the plan on which the world is 
actually administered, one which will be likely to affect our 
condition there? Is there any reason to believe, from the 
analogy of things, that the affairs of the universe will ever in 
some future condition, settle down into permanency and order ? 
That this is the doctrine of Christianity, none can deny. It is a 
matter of clear revelation — indeed it is the entire basis and 
structure of the scheme, that the affairs of justice and of law, 
are under suspense ; that "judgment now lingereth and damna- 
tion slumbereth that, crime is for the present dissociated from 
wo, for a specific purpose, viz. that mortals may repent and be 
forgiven ; and that there will come a day when the native indis- 
soluble connexion between sin and suffering shall be restored, 
and that they shall then travel on hand in hand for ever. This 
is the essence of Christianity. And it is a most interesting 
inquiry, whether any thing like this can be found in the actual 
government of the v/orld. 

Now it cannot be denied, that on this subject, men are thrown 
into a most remarkable — a chaotic mass of facts. The world is 
so full of irregularity — the lives of wicked men are apparently 
fBO often peaceful and triumphant — virtue so often pines neg- 
lected in the vale of obscurity, or weeps and groans under the 
iron hand of the oppressor, that it appals men in all their 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



attempts to reduce the system to order. Rewards and punish- 
ments, are so often apparently capricious, that there is presump- 
tive proof, in the mind of the infidel, that it will always continue 
so to be. And yet what if, amidst all this apparent disorder 
there should be found the elements of a grand and glorious sys- 
tem, soon to rise on its ruins ? What if, amidst all the triumphs 
of vice, there should still be found evidence to prove that God 
"works by an unseen power, but most effectually, in sending 
judicial inflictions on men even now? And what if, amidst 
these ruins, there is still to be found evidence, that God regards 
virtue even here, and is preparing for it appropriate rewards 
hereafter ; like the parts of a beautiful temple strewed and scat- 
tered in the ruins of some ancient city, but still if again placed 
together, symmetrical, harmonious, and grand? 

Christianity proceeds on the supposition that such is the fact ; 
and amidst all the wreck of human things, we can still discover 
certain fixed results of human conduct. The consequences of an 
action do not terminate v/ith the commission of the act itself, 
nor with the immediate effect of that act on the body. They 
travel over into future results, and strike on some other, often 
some distant part of our earthly existence. Frequently the true 
effect of the act is not seen except leijond some result that may 
be considered as the accidental one ; though for the sake of that 
immediate effect the act may have been performed. This is 
strikingly the case in the worst forms of vice. The immediate 
effect, for example, of intemperance, is a certain pleasurable 
sensation for the sake of which the man became intoxicated. 
The true effect, or the effect as part of moral government^ travels 
beyond that temporary delirium, and is seen in the loss of health, 
character, and peace, — perhaps not terminating in its conse- 
quences during the whole future progress of the victim.. So the 
direct result of profligacy may be the gratification of passion ; — ■ 
of avarice, the pleasurable indulgence of a groveling pro- 
pensity; — of ambition, the glow of feeling in splendid achieve- 
ments, or the grandeur and pomp of the monarch, or the v\'ar- 
rior ; — of dueling, a pleasurable sensation that revenge has been 
taken for insult. But do the consequences of these deeds ter- 
minate here ? If they did, we should doubt the moral govern- 
ment of God. But in regard to their ultimate effects, the uni- 
verse furnishes but one lesson. The consequences of these 
deeds travel over in advance of this pleasure, and fix themselves 
deep beyond human power to eradicate them, in the property, 
health, reputation or peace of the man of guilt; — nay, perhaps 
the consequences thicken until we take our last view of him, as 
he gasps in death, and all that we know of him, as he goes 
from our observation, is that heavier thunderbolts are seen trem- 
bling in the hand of God, and pointing their vengeance at the 
head of the dying man. What infidel can prove that some of 
the results, at least, of that crime, may not travel on to meet 
him in his future being, and beset his goings there ? 

Further, as a general law the virtuous are prospered, and the 



XX 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



wicked punished. Society is organized for this. Laws are 
made for this. The entire community throws its arms around 
the man of virtue; and in like manner, the entire community, 
by its laws, gather around the transgressor. Let a man attempt 
to commit a crime, and before the act is committed, he may 
meet with fifty evidences, that he is doing that which will in- 
volve him in ruin. He must struggle with his conscience. He 
must contend Vvdth what he knows to have been the uniform 
judgment of men. He must keep himself from the eye of jus- 
ice, and that very attempt is proof to him that there is a moral 
government He must overcome all the proofs which have been 
set up, that men approve of virtue. He must shun the presence 
of every man, for from that moment, every member of the com- 
munity, becomes, of course, his enemy. He must assume dis- 
gaises to secure him from the eye of justice. He must work his 
way through the community during the rest of his life, with the 
continued consciousness of crime ; eluding by arts the officers of 
the law, fearful of detection at every step, and never certain that 
at some unexpected moment, his crime may not be revealed, and 
tbe heavy arm of justice fall on his guilty head. Now all this 
proves that in his view he is under a moral government. How 
knov/s he, that the same system of things may not meet him 
hereafter; and that in some future world the hand of justice may 
not reach him ? The fact is sufficiently universal to be a proper 
ground of action, that virtue meets with its appropriate reward 
and vice is appropriately punished. So universal is this fact, 
that more than nine tenths of all the world, have confidently 
acted on its belief. The young man expects that industry and 
sobriety will be recompensed in the healthfulness, peace, and 
honour of a venerable old age. The votary of ambition expects to 
climb the steep, " where fame's proud temple shines afar," and 
to enjoy the revrards of office or fame. And so uniform is the 
administration of the world in this respect, that the success ol 
one generation, lays the ground for the confident anticipations of 
another. So it has been from the beginning of time, and so it 
will be to the end of the world. We ask why should not man, 
with equal reason, suppose his conduct now may affect his des- 
tiny, at the next moment or the next year beyond his death? 
Is there any violation of reason in supposing that the soul may 
be active there, and meet there the results of conduct here ? Can 
it be proved that death suspends, or annihilates existence ? Un- 
less it can, the man who acts in his yuum with reference to his 
happiness at eighty years of age, is acting most unwisely if he 
does not extend his thoughts to the hundredth, or the thousandth 
year of his being. 

What if it should be found, as the infidel cannot deny it may he, 
that death suspends not existence, so much as one night's sleep ? 
At the close of each day, we see the powers of man prostrate. 
Weakness and lassitude come over all the frame. A torpor 
elsewhere unknown in the history of animal nature, spreads 
through all the faculties. The eye'fe close, the ears become deaf 



IXTKODUCTORY ESSAY. 



XXI 



to hearing, the palate to taste, the skin to touch, the nostnls to 
smeil, all the faculties are locked in entire insensibility, alike 
strangers to the charms of music, the tones of friendship, the 
beauties of creation, the luxury of the banquet, and the voice of 
revelry. The last indication of mind to appearance is gone, or 
the indications of its existence are far feebler than when we see 
man die in the full exertion of his mental powers, sympathizing 
in feelings of friendship, and cheered by the hopes of religion. 
Yet God passes his hand over the frame when we sleep, and 
instinct with life, again v/e rise to business, to pleasure, or to 
ambition. But what are the facts which meet us, as the result 
of the doings of yesterday ? Have we lost our hold on those 
actions ? The man of industry yesterday, sees to-day, his fields 
waving in the sun, rich with a luxuriant harvest. The pro- 
fessional man of business finds his doors crowded, his wa3^s 
thronged, and multitudes awaiting his aid in law, in medicine, 
or in the arts. The man of virtue yesterday, reaps the rewards 
of it to-day, in the respect and confidence of mankind ; and in 
the peace of an approving conscience, and the smiles of God. 
The man of intemperate living rises to nausea, retching, pain, 
and wo. Poverty, this morning clothes in rags the body of 
him who was idle yesterday; and disease clings to the goings, 
and fixes itself in the blood of him, who was dissipated. Who 
can tell but death shall be less a suspension of existence than 
this night's sleep? Who can tell but that the consequences of 
our doings here, shall travel over our sleep in the tomb, and 
greet us in our awaking in some new abode ? Why should 
they not? 'Why should God appoint a law so wise, and so uni- 
versal here, that is to fail the moment we pass to some other part 
of our being ? 

Nor are the results of crime confined to the place v;here the act 
was committed. Sin, in youth, may lay the foundation of a 
disease, that shall complete its work on the other side of the 
globe. An early career of dissipation in America, may fix in the 
frame the elements of a disorder, that shall complete its work in 
the splendid capital of the French, or it may be in the sands of 
the Equator, or the snovv's of Siberia. If crime may thus travel 
in its results around the globe, if it may reach out its withering 
hand over seas, and mountains, and continents, and seek out its 
fleeing victim in the solitary waste, or in the dark night, we see 
not Vvhy it may not be stretched across the grave, and meet the 
victim there — at least we think the analogy should make the 
transgressor tremble, and turn pale as he flies to eternity. 

But it is still objected that the rewards given to virtue, and the 
pain inflicted on vice, are not universal, and that there is not, 
therefore, the proof that was to have been expected, that they 
vrill be hereafter. Here vre remark that it is evidently not the 
des^.gn of religion to affirm that the entire system can be seen in 
our world. We say that the system is noi fully developed, and 
that there is, therefore, presumptive proof that there is another 
state of things. Every one must have been struck with tlie fact. 



XXll 



INTRODUCTOFwY ESSAY. 



that h'jnian affairs are cut oif in the midst of their way, and their 
complctiOQ removed to some other world. No earthly systeir. 
or plan has been carried out to its full extent. There is no proof 
that we have ever seen the full result of any given system of 
conduct. We see the effect of vice as far as the structure of the 
hody Vv'ill allow. We see it prostrate the frame, produce disease, 
and terniinate in death. We see the effect on body and mind 
alike, until we lose our sight of the man in the grave. There 
our oDservation stops. But who can tell what the effect of 
intemperance, for example, would be in this world, if the body 
were adjusted to bear its results a little longer ? Who can cal- 
;?ulate with what accelerated progress the consequences would 
thicken beyond the time when we now cease to observe them? 
And who can aflirm that the same results may not await the 
mind hereafter? Again we ask the infidel why they should not? 
He is bound to tell us. The presumption is against him. 

Besides, the effect of vice is often arrested in its first stage. A 
young man suddenly dies. For some purpose, unseen to human 
eyes, the individual is arrested, and the effect of his crimes is 
removed into eternity. Why is this more improbable than that 
the irregularities of youth should run on, and find their earthly 
completion in the wretchedness and poverty of a dishonoured old 
age. So virtue is often arrested. The young man of promise, 
of talent, and of piety, dies. The completion of the scheme is 
arrested. The rewards are dispensed in another Avorld. So says 
religion. And can the infidel tell us why they should not be dis- 
pensed there, as well as in the ripe honours of virtuous man 
hood? This is a question which infidelity must answer. 

The same remarks are as applicable to communities as to indi- 
viduals. It is to be remembered here, that virtue has never had 
a full and impartial trial. The 'proper effect of virtue here, would 
be seen in a perfectly pure community. Let us suppose such an 
organization of society. Imagine a community of virtuous men 
where the most worthy citizens should always be elected to 
office, where affairs should be suffered to flow on far enough to 
give the system a complete trial ; where vice, corruption, flattery, 
bribes, anxl the arts of oince-seeking, should be unknown ; where 
intemperance, gluttony, lust, and dishonest gains, should be shut 
out by the laws, and by the moral sense of the commonwealth ; 
where industry and sobriety should universally prevail, and be 
honored. Is there any ditTiculty in seeing that if this system 
were to prevail for many ages, the nation would be signally pros- 
perous, and gain a wide dominion ? And suppose, on the other 
hand, a community made up on the model of the New-Harmony 
plan, the asylum of the idle, of the unprincipled, and the profli- 
gate. Suppose that the men of the greatest physical power, and 
most vice, should rule, as they infallibly would do. Suppose 
there Avas no law, but the single precept enjoining universal 
indulgence ; and suppose that, under some miraculous and terri- 
ble binding together by divine pressure, this comm.unity should 
be kept from falling to pieces, or destroying itself, for a few ages, 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



xxiii 



is there any difficulty in seeing what would be the proper effect 
of crime ? Indeed, we deem it happy for the world that one 
Robert Owen has been permitted to live to make the experiment 
on a small scale, and but lest the record of total profligacy 
and corruption should not be confined to the singularly named 
New-Haiinony . All this proves there is something either in the 
frame-work of society itself, or in the agency of some Great 
Being presiding over human things, that smiles on virtue, and 
frowns on vice. In other words, there is a moral government. 

It is further to be remarked that, as far as the experiment has 
been suffered to go on in the world, it has been attended with a 
uniform result. Nations are suffered to advance in wickedness, 
until they reach the point, in the universal constitution of thmgs, 
that is attended with self-destruction. So fell Gomorrah, Baby- 
lon, Athens, Rome, expiring just as the drunkard does — by excess 
of crime, or by enervating their strength in luxury and vice. 
The body politic, enfeebled by corruption, is not able to sustain 
the incumbent load, and sinks, like the human frame, in r«in. 
So has perished every nation, from the vast dominions of Alex- 
ander the Macedonian, to the mighty empire of Napoleon, that 
has been reared in lands w^et with the blood of the slam, and 
incumbent on the pressed and manacled liberties of man. In 
national, as well as in private affairs, the powers of doing evil 
soon exhaust themselves. The frame in which they act is not 
equal to the mighty pressure, and the nation or the individual 
sinks to ruin. Like some tremendous engine, of many wheels 
and complicated machinery, when the balance is removed, and 
it is suffered to waste its powers in self-propulsion, without 
checks or guides, the tremendous energy works its own ruin, 
rends the machine in pieces, and scatters its rolling and flying 
wheels in a thousand directions. Such is the frame of society, 
and such the frame of an individual. So we expect, if God gave 
up the world to unrestrained evil it would accomplish its own 
perdition. We think we see in every human frame, and in the 
mingled and clashing powers of every society, the elements of 
ruin, and all that is necessary to secure that ruin is to remove 
the pressure of the hand that now restrains the v/ild and terrific 
powers, and saves the world from self-destruction. So if virtue 
had a fair trial, we apprehend it would be as complete in its 
results. We expect, in heaven, it will secure its own rewards — 
like the niachine which we have supposed — always harmonious 
in its movements. So in hell, we expect there wall be the ele- 
ments of universal misrule — and that all the foreign force that 
will be necessary to secure eternal misery, will be Almighty 
power to preserve the terrible powers in unrestrained being, and 
to press them into the same mighty prison-house — just like some 
adamantine enclosure that should keep the engine together and 
fix the locality of its tremendous operations. 

Long ago it had passed into a proverb, that " murder will out.' 
This is just an illustration of what we are supposing. Let a 
murderer live long enough, and such is the organization of 



xxiv 



INTKODUCTORY ESSAY. 



society, that vengeance will find him out. Such, we suppose, 
would be the case in regard to all crime, if sufficient permanency 
were given to the affairs of men, and if things were not arrested 
in the midst of their way. Results in eternity^ we suppose, are 
but the transfer to another state of results which would take place 
here, if the guilty were not removed. We ask the infidel, — w^e 
ask the Universalist, why this state of things should be arrested 
by so unimportant a circumstance as death ! Here is a uniform 
system of things — uniform as far as the eye can run it backward 
into past generations,- -uniform, so as to become the foundation 
of laws and of the entire conduct of the world, — and uniform, so 
far as the eye can trace the results of condMdt forward in all the 
landmarks set up along our future course. Unless God change, 
and the affairs of other worlds are administered on principles 
different from ours, it must be that the system will receive its 
appropriate termination there. It belongs to the infidel and the 
Universalist to prove, that the affairs of the universe come to a 
solemn pause at death ; that we are ushered into a w^orld of dif- 
ferent laws, and different principles of government, — that we 
pass under a new sceptre, a sceptre too, not of justice, but of dis- 
order, misrule, and the arrest of all that God has begun in his 
administration ; — that the results of conduct, manifestly but just 
commenced here, are finally arrested by some strange and 
unknown principle at our death ; — and that we are to pass to a 
world of which we know nothing, and in which we have no 
means of conjecturing what will be the treatment which crime 
and virtue will receive. We ask them, can they demonstrate this 
strange theory ? Are men willing to risk their eternal welfare 
on the presumption, that God will he a different being therefrom 
what he is here, and that the conduct which meets with wo here^ will 
there meet with bliss 1 Why not rather suppose, — as Christianity 
does— according to all the analogy of things, that the same 
Almighty hand shall be stretched across all worlds alike, and that 
the bolts which vibrate in his hand now, and point their thunders 
at the head of the guilty, shall fall with tremendous weight there, 
and close, in eternal life and death, the scenes begun on earth ? 
We know of no men who are acting under so fearful probabili- 
ties against their views, as those who deny the doctrine of future 
pu?nishment. Here is a long array of uniform facts, all, as we 
understand them, founded on the presumption that the scheme 
of the infidel cannot be true. The system is continued through 
all the revolutions to which men are subject. Conduct, in its 
results, travels over all the interruptions of sleep, sickness, 
absence, delirium, that man meets with, and passes on from age 
to age. 

The conduct of yesterday terminates in results to-day ; that of 
youth extends into old age ; that oil health reaches even beyond a 
season of sickness; that of sanity, beyond a state of delirium. 
Crime here meets its punishment, it may be after we have 
crossed oceans, and snows, and sands, in some other part of the 
globe. Far from country and home, in lands of strangers where 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



no eye may recognise or pity us, but that of the unseen witness 
of our actions, it follows us in remorse of conscience, or in the 
ludgments of the storm, the siroc, or the ocean. We are amazed 
that it should be thought that death will arrest this course of 
things, and that crossing that narrow vale, will do for us what 
the passage from yesterday to to-day, from youth to age, from 
the land of our birth to the land of strangers and of solitudes, can 
never do. Guilty man carries the elements of his own perdition, 
within him, and it matters little whether he be in society or in 
solitude, in this world or the next — the inward fires will burn, 
and the sea and the dry land, and the burning climes of hell, will 
send forth their curses to greet the wretched being, who has 
dared to violate the laws of the unseen God, and to '*hail" him 
as the "new possessor" of the "profoundest hell." 

But the infidel still objects that ail this is mere probability, 
and that in concerns so vast, it is unreasonable to act without 
demonstration. We reply, that in few of the concerns of life do 
men act from demonstration. The farmer sows with the proha- 
bility, only, that he vvail reap. The scholar toils with the proba- 
bility, often a slender one, that his life will be prolonged, and 
success crown his labours in subsequent life. The m.erchant 
commits his treasures to the ocean, embarks perhaps all he has 
on the bosom of the deep, under the probability that propitious 
gales will waft the riches of the Indies into port. Under this 
probability, and this only, the ambitious man pants for honour, 
the votary of pleasure presses to the scene of dissipation, the 
youth, the virgin, the man of middle life, and he of hoary hairs, 
alike crowd round the scenes of honour, of vanity, and of gain. 
Nay, more, some of the noblest qualities of the soul are brought 
forth only on the strength of probabilities that appear slight to 
less daring spirits. In the eye of his countrymen, few things 
were more improbable than that Columbus vv^ould survive the 
dangers of the deep, and land on the shores of a nevv^ hemisphere. 
2-Tothing appeared more absurd than his reasonings — nothing 
more chimerical than his plans. Yet under the pressure of proof 
that satisfied his own mind, he braved the dangers of an untra- 
versed ocean, and bent his course to regions whose existence 
was as far from the belief of the old world, as that of heaven is 
from the faith of the infidel. Nor could the unbelieving Spaniard 
deny, that under the pressure of the prohaUlity of the existence 
of a western continent, some of the highest qualities of mind 
that the "earth has seen, were exhibited by the Genoese navigator 
— just as the infidel must admit that some of the most firm and 
noble expressions of soul have come from the enterprise of gain- 
ing a heaven and a home, beyond the stormy and untraveiled 
ocean, on which the Christian launches his bark in discovery of 
a new world. We might add also here, the names of Bruce, of 
Wallace, of Tell, of Washington. We might remark how they 
commenced the great enterprises whose triumphant completion 
has given immortality to their names, under the power of a 
probability that their efforts would be successful. We might 



rSTBODUCTOET Z5SAT. 



remark how many more clouds of doubt and obsenrity clustered 
firound their enterprises, than haTe ever darkenei the Ciiiist'd-:: s 
path to hearen, and how the grandest displays of patriotism and 
prowess that the world has known, have grown ont of the 
hazardoiLs design of rescuing Scotland, Switzerland and America 
from slavery. But we shall only oteerre that there was jnst 
enough proba i i of success in these cases to try these men's 
souls — just ^ IS pr oh ability enon^ of heaven and heU, to 

try the souls c: mideis and of Christians, to bring out their true 
character, and answer the great ends of moral government, 

But here the infidel acts on the very principle which he con- 
demns. He has not demonstrated that his system is true. From 
the nature of the system he cannot do it. He acts then, on a 
'probability that Kis system inay prove to be true- And were the 
subject one less serious than eternity, it might be amusing to 
look at the nature of these probabilities. His system assumes 
't as probable that men will not be rewarded accwdmg to their 
deeds ; that Christianity will turn i>ut to be false ; that it will 
appear that no such being as Jesus lived, or that it will yet be 
proved that he was an impostor ; that twelve men wctc deceived 
in so plain a case as that wkich related to the death and resur- 
rection of an intimate friend ; that they conspired to impose on 
men vv^thout reward, contrary to ail the acfeiowledged princi- 
ples of human action, and when they could reap nothing for 
their imposture but stripes, contempt, and death ; that religion 
did not early spread over the Eoman empire; that the &cts of 
the Kew Testament are falsehood, and of course that all the 
cotemporaneous confirmations of ^ese fects collected by the 
indefatigable Lardner. were false also : that the Jews occupy 
their place in the nations by chance, and exist in a manner con- 
traiy to that of all other people, without reason ; that all the pre- 
dictions of their dispersion, of the coming' of Ae M^siah, of the 
overthrow of Babylon and Jerusalem and Tyre are conjectures, 
in which men, Yery barbaroos men, conjectored exactly right, 
while thousands of the predictions of heathen oiades and states- 
men have failed; that this singular fact should have happened, 
that the most barbarous people should give to mankind the 
only intelligible notices of God, and that a dozen Galilean peas- 
ants should have devised a scheme of imposture to overthrow all 
the trae, and all the false systems of religi<ni in the woiid. The 
infidel moreover deems it probable that there is no God ; or that 
death is an eternal sleep; or that we have no souls; or that 
man is but an improved and educated ape, or that all virtue is 
vain, that all vice stands on the same level, and -may be com- 
mitted at any man's pleasure ; or that man^s wisdom is to dis- 
regard the fature, and live to eat and drink and die ; and all this 
too, when his conscience tells him there is a God, when he does 
act for the future, and expects hap^ness or wo as the reward of 
virtue or vice ; when he is palsied, as he looks at the grave, with 
fears of what is beyond, and tonis pale in solitude as he looks 
onward to the bar of God. Now we hazard notfaiDg in saying. 



INTEODrCTORT ESSAY. 



that the man who is compelled to act as the infidel is, who has 
all these probabilities to cheer him with the belief that infidelity 
is true, and this when it has no system to recommend as truth, 
and when it stands opposed to all the analogy of things, is 
engaged in a most singular employment, when he denounces 
men for acting on the probability that there is a heaven, a God, 
a Saviour, and a hell. It seems to us that there is nothing more 
at war with all the noble and pure feelings of the soul, than this 
attempt to " swing man from his moorings," and send him on 
wild and tumultuous sea?, with only the infideVs probability that 
he will ever reach a haven of rest. It is launching into an 
ocean, without a belief that there is an ocean ; and weathering 
storms, without professing to believe that there may be storms; 
and seeking a port of peace, without believing that there is such 
a port, and acting daily with reference to the future, at the same 
time that all is pronounced an absurdity. And when we see all 
this, we ask instinctively, can this be man "? Or is this being 
right after all, in the belief that he is only a semn-barbarous ape, 
or a half-reclaimed man of the vv^oods ? 

But we are gravely told, and with an air of great seeming 
v/isdom, that all presumption and experience are against the 
miraculous facts in the Xew Testament. And it was, for some 
time, deemed proof of singular philosophical sagacity in Hume, 
that he made the discovery, and put it on record to enlighten 
mankind. For our part, we think far more attention was 
bestowed on this sophistry than was required: and but for the 
show of confident wisdom Vv'ith which it was put forth, we think 
the argument of Campbell might have been spared. It might 
safely be admitted, we suppose, that all presumption and experi- 
ence, were against miracles before they were wrought, — and this 
IS no more than saying that they were not wrought before they 
were. The plain matter of fact, apart from all laboured meta- 
physics, is, that there is a presumption against most facts until 
they actually take place, because till that time all experience 
was against them. Thus there were many presumptions against 
the existence of such a man as Julius Caesar. No man would 
have ventured to predict that there would be such a man. There 
were a thousand probabilites that a man of that name would not 
live — as many that he would not cross the Rubicon — as many that 
he would not enslave his country — and as many that he would 
not be slain by the hand of such a man as Brutus, — and all this 
was contrary to experience. So there were innumerable im- 
probabilities,' in regard to the late Emperor of France. It was 
once contemplated, we are told, by a living poet who afterwards 
wrote his life in a different place, to produce a biography 
grounded on the tmprohGhiliiies of his conduct, and showing how, 
in fact, all those improbabilities disappeared in the actual result. 
The world stood in amazement indeed for a few years at the 
singular grandeur of his movements. Men saw him ride, as 
the spirit of the storm, on the vvhirlwind of the revolution ; and 
like the s]urit of the tempest, amazed and trembling nationsf 



xxviii 



TNTRODUCTOET ESSAY. 



knew not where his power would strike, or what city or state it 
would next sweep into ruin. But the world has since become 
familiar with the spectacle,— men have seen that he was 
naturally engendered by the turbid elements — that he was the 
proper creation of the revolution — and that if he had not lived 
some other master spirit like him would have seized the direction 
of the tempest, and poured its desolations on bleeding and 
trembling Europe. So any great discovery in science or art, is 
previously improbable and contrary to experience. We have 
often amused ourselves with contemplating what would have 
been the effect on the mind of Archimedes, had he been told of 
the power of one of the most common elements, — an element 
which men who see boiling water must always see — its mighty 
energy in draining deep pits in the earth, in raising vast rocks 
of granite, in propelling vessels with a rapidity and beauty of 
which the ancients knew nothing, and in driving a thousand 
wheels in the minutest and most delicate works of art. To the 
ancient world all this was contrary to experience, and all pre- 
sumption was against it, — as improbable certainly as that God 
should have power to raise the dead ; and we doubt whetlier any 
evidence of divine revelation would have convinced mankind 
three thousand years ago, without the actual experiment, of 
what the school-boy may now know as a matter of sober and 
daily occurrence, in the affairs of the world. So not long since, the 
Copernican system of astronomy v/as so improbable^ that for 
maintaining it, Galileo endured the pains of the dungeon. All 
presumption and all experience it was thought were against it. 
Yet, by the discoveries of Nev/ton, it has been made, to the 
great mass of mankind, devoid of all its improbabilities, and 
children acquiesce in its reasonableness. So the oriental king 
could not be persuaded that water could ever become hard. It 
was full of improbabilities, and contrary to all experience. The 
plain matter of fact, is, that in regard to all events in history, 
and all discoveries in science, and inventions in the mechanic 
arts, there may be said to be a presumption against their exist- 
ence, just as there was in regard to miracles ; and they are con- 
trary to all experience, until discovered, just as miracles are 
until performed. And if this be all that infidelity has to affirm in 
the boasted argument of Hume, it seems to be ushering into the 
world, with very unnecessary pomp, a very plain truism, — that 
a new fact in the v^^orld is contrary to all experience, and this is 
th3 same as saying that a thing is contrary to experience until 
it actually Z5 experienced. 

We have another remark to make on this subject. It relates 
to the ease with which the improbabilities of a case may be over- 
come by testimony. We doubt not that the wonders of the 
steam power may be now credited by all mankind, and we who 
have seen its application in so many forms, easily believe that 
it may accomplish similar wonders in combinations which the 
world has not yet witnessed. The incredulity of the age of 
Galileo on the subject of astronomy, has been overcome among 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



xxix 



millions who cannot trace the demonstrations of Newton, and 
who perhaps have never heard his name. It is by testimony only 
that all this is done ; and on the strength of this testimony, man 
will hazard any worldly interest. He will circmimavigate the 
globe, not at all deterred by the fear that he may find in distant 
seas or lands, different laws from which the Copernican system 
supposes, ^ye do not see why, in like manner, the improbabili- 
ties of religion may not vanish before testimony; and its high 
mysteries in some advanced period of our existence, become as 
familiar to us, as the common facts which are now the subjects 
of our daily observation. Nor can we see why the antecedent 
difficulties of religion may not as easily be removed by compe- 
tent proof, as those which appalled the minds of men in the gran- 
cleur_of the astronomical system, or the mighty power of the arts. 

We wish here briefly to notice another difficulty of infidelity. 
It is, that it is altogether unprohable and against the analogy of 
things, that the Son of God, the equal of the Father of the uni- 
verse, should stoop to the humiliating scenes of the mediation, — 
should consent to be cursed, reviled, buffetted, and put to death. 
We answer, men are very incompetent judges of what a Divine 
Being may be willing to endure. V/ho Vv'ould suppose, before- 
hand, that God would submit to blasphemy and rebuke ? Yet 
what being has been ever more calumniated ? Who has been 
the object of more scorn ? What is the daily offering that goes 
'up from the wide world to the ^laker of all worlds? Not a 
nation that does not daily send up a dense cloud of obscenity and 
profaneness as their offering. 

^' The diA-eilers in the vales and on the rocks 

" Shout to each other : and the mountain tops 

" ' From distant mountains catch the flying' curse. 

Till nation after nation taught the strain. 
" ' Earth rolls the awful malediction round. ^ " 

Scarce a corner of the street can be turned, but our ears are 
saluted with the sound of blasphemy — curses poured on Jeho- 
vah, on his Son, on his Spirit, on his creatures, on the material 
universe, on his law. To our minds, it is no more strange that 
the Son of God should bear reproach, and pain, with patience for 
thirty years, than that the God of creation should bear all this from 
age to age, and as an offering from the wide w^orld. We have 
only to reflect on what the blasphemer would do if God should be 
imbodied, and reveal himself to the eye in a form so that human 
hands might reach him with nails, and spears, and mock dia^ 
dems, to see an illustration of what they actually did do, when 
his Son put himself in the power of blasphemers, and refused 
not to die. The history of the blasphemer has shown that if he 
had the poicer, long ago the last gem in the Creator's crown 
would have been plucked away • his throne would have crum- 
bled beneath him ; his sceptre been wrested from his hand ; and 
the God of creation, like his Son in redemption, would have 
been suspended on a " great ^-.entral" cross ' When we see 



XXX 



INTKODUCTOEY ESSAY. 



the patience of God towards blasphemers, our minds are never 
staggered by any condescension in the Redeemer. We see 
something in the analogy, so unlike what we see among men, 
that vve are strongly coniirmed in the belief that they are a part 
of one great system of things. 

We have thus presented a specimen of the nature of the argu- 
ment from analogy. Our design has been to excite to inquiry, 
and to lead our readers to cultivate a practical acquaintance 
with this great work. W e deem it a work of piinciples in the- 
ology — a work to be appreciated only by those who think for 
themselves, and w^ho are willing to be at the trouble of carrying 
out these materials for thought into a daily practical application 
to the thousand difhculties, which beset the path of Christians in 
their own private reflections, in the facts w^hich they encounter, 
and in the inuendoes, jibes, and blasphemies of infidels. We 
know, indeed, that the argument is calculated to silence rather 
than to convince. In our view, this is w^hat, on this subject, is 
principally needed. The question in our minds is rather, whe- 
ther we may believe there is a future state, than whether we 
must believe it. Sufficient for mortals, w^e think is it, in their 
wanderings, their crimes, and their sorrows, if they may believe 
there is a place where the wricked cease from troubling, and the 
w^eary may be for ever at rest; and if the thousand shades of 
doubt on that subject which thicken on the path of man, and 
which assume a deeper hue by infidel arts, may he removed. 
We ask only the privilege of believing that there is a w^orld of 
purity ; that the troubled elements of our chaotic abode may 
settle down into rest; and that from the heavings of this 
moving sea there may arise a fair moral system complete in all 
its parts, where God shall be all in all, and where all creatures 
may admire the beauty of his moral character, and the gran- 
deur of his sovereign control. We w^atch the progress of this 
system, much as we may suppose a spectator would have 
watched the process of the first creation. At first this now 
solid globe was a wild chaotic mass. Darkness and commotion 
were there. There w^as a vast heavmg deep — a boundless com.- 
mingling of elements — a dismal terrific wild. Who, in looking 
on that moving mass, would have found evidence that the 
beauty of Eden would so soon start up on its surface, and the fair 
proportions of our hills, and vales, and streams, would rise to 
give support to millions of animated and happy beings. And 
with what intensity would the observer behold the light burst- 
ing on chaos — the rash of waters to their deep caverns — the 
uprising cf the hills clothed with verdure, inviting to life and 
felicity. With w^hat beauty would appear the millions sporting 
with new^-created life in their proper elements. Myriads in the 
heaving ocean and gushing streams — myriads melodious in the 
groves — myriads joyful on a thousand hills, and in a thousand 
vales. How grand the completion of the system — :man lord of 
all, clothed with power over the bursting millions, the priest of 
this new creation, rendering homage to its Great Sovereign 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



Lord, and " extolling him first, him midst, and him without end." 
Like beauty and grandeur, we expect will come out of this 
deranged moral system. Our eye loves to trace its develope- 
raent. With tears we look back on "Paradise Lost" — with 
exultation we trace the unfolding elements of a process that 
shall soon exhibit the beauty and grandeur of " Paradise 
regained." 

There is still a most important part of the subject untouched— - 
the analogy of the Christian scheme, as we understand it, to the 
course of nature, and the fact that all the objections urged against 
Calvinism lie against the actual order of events. This part of the 
argument, Butler has not touched. To this, we propose now to 
call the attention of our readers — in some respects the most inte- 
resting and important part of " the analogy of religion, natural 
and revealed, to the constitution and course of nature." 

Thus far we have had our eye fixed on the infidel. We wish 
now to direct our attention to the opponents of what we consider 
the Christian scheme, and inquire whether Butler has not fur- 
nished us materials to annihilate every objection against what 
are called the doctrines of grace. We say Tnaterials, for we are 
well aware that he did not complete the argument. We suppose 
that, had his object been to carry it to its utmost extent, there 
were two important causes which would have arrested its pro- 
gress where it actually has stopped. The first is found in But- 
ler's own views of the Christian scheme. We are not calling in 
question his piety, but we have not seen evidence that he had 
himself fully embraced the evangelical system, and applied his 
argument to the peculiar doctrines of the gospel. We fear that 
he stopped short of such a result in his own feelings, and that this 
may have been the reason why that system had not a more pro- 
minent place in his work. Still, we vv^ould not apply the lan- 
guage of severe criticism to this deficiency in the Analogy. We 
know his design. It was to meet the infidelity of an age of 
peculiar thoughtlessness and vice. He did it. He reared an 
argument which infidels have thought it most prudent to let 
alone. They have made new attacks in other modes. Driven 
from this field, they have yielded it into the hands of Butler, — 
and their wisdom has consisted in withdrawing as silently as 
possible from the field, and losing the recollection both of the din 
of conflict and the shame of defeat. It has always been one of 
the arts of infidelity and error, to forget the scene of previous 
conflict' and overthrow. Singular adroitness is manifested in 
Keeping from the public eye X\\q fact and the monuments of such 
disastrous encounters. Thus Butler stands as grand and solitary 
as a pyramid of Egypt, and we might add, nearly as much for- 
saken by those for whose benefit he wrote. And thus Edwards 
on the Will is convenienily forgotten by hosts of Arminians, who 
continue to urge their arguments with as much self-gratulation, 
as though previous hosts of Arminians had never been prostrated 
oy his mighty arm. Could we awaken the unpleasant reminis- 
€nce in the infidels of our age, that there was such a man as 



irNTRODCCTOrcY ESSAY. 



Butler, and in ine opposers of the dcKitrines of grace, that there 
is extant in the English language such a book, as "A careful 
inquiry into the modern prevailing notions on the freedom of the 
Will," we should do more, perhaps, than by any one means to 
disturb the equanimity of multitudes, who live only to deal out 
dogmas as if they had never been confuted: and we might hope 
to arrest the progress of those destructive errors which are 
spreading in a thousand channels through the land. 

The other cause of the denciency which we notice in the Ana- 
logy, is, that it was not possible for Eutler, with the statements 
then made of the doctrines of grace, to carry out his argument, 
and give it its true bearing on those doctrines. The philosophical 
principles on which Calvinism had been defended for a century 
and a hall', were substantially those of the schoolmen. The sys- 
tem had started out from darker ages of the world : had been 
connected with minds of singular sl:rength and power, but also 
with trails in some degree stern and forbidding. 3Ien had been 
thro^Ti into desperate mental conflict. They had struggled for 
mental and civil freedom. They had but little leisure, and less 
inclination, to polish and adorn — to go into an investigation of 
tne true laws of the mind, and the proper explanation of facts in 
the moral world — little inclination to look on what was bland 
and amiable in the government of God. Hence they took the 
rough-cast system, wielded, in its defence, the ponderous wea- 
pons which Augustine and even the Jansenists had furnished 
them, and prevailed in the conflict ; not, however, by the force 
of their philosophy, but of those decisive declarations of the word 
of God, with which unhappily that philosophy had become iden- 
tified. But when they told of imputing the sin of one man to 
another, and of holding that other to be persondlJy ansiccrahle for 
it, it is no wonder that such minds as that of Butler recoiled, for 
there is nothing like this in nature. AMien they affirmed, that 
men have no power to do the will of God, and yet will be damned 
for not doing what they have no capacity to perform, it is no 
wonder that he started back, and refused to attempt to And an 
analogy; for it is unlike the common sense of men. When they 
told of a limited atonement — of confining the original applica- 
bility of the blood of Christ to the elect alone, there was no ana- 
logy to this, in all the dealings of God towards sinners ; in the 
sun-beam, in the dew, the rain, in running rivulets or oceans ; 
and here Butler must stop, for the analogy could go no further 
upon the then prevalent notions of theology. 

Still, we record with gratitude the achievements of Butler. 
We render our humble tribute of thanksgiving to God, that he 
raised up a man who has laid the foundation of an argument 
which can be applied to every feature of the Christian scheme. 
We are not Hutchinsonians, but we believe there is a course of 
nature most strikingly analogous to the doctrines of revelation. 
We believe that all the objections which have been urged against 
the peculiar doctrines of the Christian scheme, lie with equal 
weight against the course of nature itself, and, therefore, really 



INTKODTJCTORY ESSAY. 



constitute no objections at all. This point of the argument, 
Butler has omitted. To a contemplation of the outline of it we 
now ask the attention of our readers. 

We are accustomed, in our ordinary technical theology, to 
speak much of the doctrines of Christianity : and men of system- 
making minds have talked of them so long, that they seem to 
understand by them, a sort of intangible and abstract array of 
propositions, remote from real life and from plain matter of fact. 
The learner in divinity is often told, that there is a species of 
daring profaneness, in supposing that they are to be shaped to 
existing facts, or to the actual operations of moral agents. All 
this is metaphysics, and the moment he dares to ask whether 
Turretin or Ridgeley had proper conceptions of the laws of the 
mind, of moral agency, or of facts in the universe, that moment 
the shades of all antiquity are summoned to come around the 
adventurous theologian, and charge him with a guilty departure 
from dogmas long held in the church. 

Now we confess we have imbibed somewhat different notions 
of the doctrines of the Bible. AVe have been accustomed to regard 
the w^ord as denoting only an authoritative teaching, (c^ca^^/y, 
Matt. vii. 28: comp. v. 19; xxii. 33; 2 Tim. iv. 2, 9,) of what 
actually exists in the universe. We consider the whole system of 
doctrines as simply a statement of /<2CuS. The doctrine of the 
Trinity, for example, is a statement of a fact respecting the mode 
of God's existence. The fact is beyond any investigation of our 
own minds, and we receive the statement as it is. The doctrine 
of the mediation is a statement of facts, respecting what Christ 
did, and taught, and suffered, as given by himself and his fol- 
lowers. So of depravity, so of election or predestination, so of 
perseverance, so of future happiness and wo. What, then, are 
the doctrines of Christianity ? Simply statements of what has 
been, of what is, and Vv^hat ivill be, in the government of God. In 
this, every thing is as far as possible from abstraction. There 
is as little abstraction, (and w^hy may we not add as little sacred- 
ness?) in these facts, — we mean sacredness to prevent inquiry 
into their true nature — as there is in the science of geology, the 
grownh of a vegetable, or the operations of the human intellect. 
We may add, that in no way has systematic theology rendered 
more essential disservice to mankind, than in drawing out the 
life-blood from these great facts — unstnnging the nerves, stiffen- 
ing the, muscles, and giving the fixedness of death to them, as 
the anatomist cuts up the human frame, removes all the ele- 
ments of life, distends the arteries and veins with, wax, and then 
places it in his room of preparations, as cold and repulsive as are 
some systems of technical divinity. 

In the doctrines of Christianity, as given us in the Bible, we 
find nothing of this abstract and unreal character. The whole 
tenor of the Scriptures prepares us to demand, that theology be 
invariably conformed to the laws of the mind, and the actual 
economy of the moral and material universe. The changes 
which have taken place in orthodox systems of divinity since the 



XXXIV 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAf* 



era of the reformation, have been chiefly owing to the changes 
in the system of mental and moral science. Whenever tha 
system shall be fully understood, and established on the immo- 
vable fomidation of truth, all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in 
sincerity, will be of one mind in their mode of stating the doc- 
trines of the gospel, as they already are in their spiritual feel- 
ings. Till then, all that can be done by the friends of truth wiil 
be to show, that the objections which are urged against the doc- 
trines of grace, can be urged with equal power, against all the 
facts in God's moral government. 

From the beginning, formidable objections have been brought 
against what are called the Doctrines of Grace, or the Evangeli- 
cal System, or Calvinism. These objections have seldom, if 
ever, been drawn from the Bible. Their strength has consisted 
in the alleged fact, that these doctrines are in opposition to the 
established principles, by which God governs the world. We 
concede, that there is just enough of apparent irregularity in 
those principles, to make these objections plausible with the 
great mass of men, just as there was enough of irregularity and 
improbability in the Copernican system of astronomy, to make 
it for a long time liable to many and plausible objections. Cer- 
tain appearances strongly favoured the old doctrine, that the sun, 
moon, and stars travellca, in marshalled hosts, around our insig- 
nificant orb, just as, in the Arminian system, certain appear- 
ances may seem to mdicate that man is the centre of the system, 
and that God, and all the hosts of heaven, live and act chiefly to 
minister to his comfort. But it is note clear, that all the proper 
facts in astronomy go to prove, that the earth is a small part of 
the plan, and to confirm the system of Copernicus. So we afifirm 
that the Calvinistic scheme — despite all Arminian appearances, 
is the plan on which this world is actually governed ; and that 
all the objections that have been urged against it are urged 
against facts that are fixed in the very nature of things. And 
we affirm that a mind which could take in all these facts, could 
make up the Calvinistic scheme without the aid of revelation, 
from the actual course of events; just as in the ruins of an 
ancient city the skilful architect can discern in the broken frag- 
ments, pillars of just dimensions, arches of proper proportions, 
and the remains of edifices of symmetry and grandeur. 

In entering on this subject, however, we cannot but remark 
that the Evangelical Scheme is often held answerable for that 
which it did not originate. We mean, that when opposers 
approach the Christian system, they almost universally hold it 
responsible for the fall^ as well as the recovery^ of man. They 
are not willing to consider, that it is a scheme proposed to remedy 
an existing state of evil. Christianity did not plunge men into 
sin. It is the system by which men are to be recovered from 
wo — -wo which would have existed to quite as great an extent, 
certainly, if the conception of the evangelical system had never 
entered the divine mind. The theory and practice of medicine 
is not to be held answerable for the fact that man is subject to 



INTllODUCTOEY ESSAY. 



XXXV 



disease and death. It finds men thus subjp^.t; and all that can 
be justly required of the art, is that to which it makes preten- 
sions, viz. that it can do something towards removing or allevia- 
ting human sufierino-. So in Christianity. That men are in 
fact in the midst of sin, suffering, and death, is undeniable. The 
doctrine is common to the deist, the atheist, and the Christian, 
For that Christianity is not answerable. It proposes a remedy, 
and that remedy is properly the Christian system. Still we 
shall not, in our present discussion, avail ourselves of this very 
obvious remark; but shall proceed to notice the objections to the 
entire series of revealed facts, as if they constituted one system 
— and the rather as the evangelical system proposes a statement 
respecting the exact extent of the evil, which has an important 
bearing on the features of the remedy proposed. 

1. The first fact, then, presented for our examination is the 
fall of man. The Scriptures affirm that a solitary act — an act 
_n itself exceedingly unimportant — was the beginning of that 
ong train of sin and wretchedness, which has passed upon our 
world. Now, we acknowledge that to all the mystery and fear- 
fulness of this fact our bosoms beat with a full response to that 
of the objector. We do not understand the reason of it ; and 
what is of more consequence to us and to the objector is, that 
an explanation of this mystery^ forms no part of the system of reve^ 
laiion. The only inquiry at present before us, is, whether the 
fact in question is so separated from all other events, as to be 
expressly contradicted by the analogy of nature. 

We know there has been a theory, which affirms that we are 
one with Adam — that w^e so existed in his loins, as to act with 
him — that our icilis concurred with his will — that his action was 
strictly and properly ours — and that we are held answerable at 
the bar of justice for that deed, just as A. B. at fifty is responsi- 
ble for the deed of A. B. at twelve. In other words, that the act 
of Adam, involving us all in ruin, is taken out of all ordmary 
laws by which God governs the world, and made to stand by 
itself, as incapable of any illustration from analogy, and as 
mocking any attempt to defend it by reasoning. With this 
theory, we confess we have no sympathy ; and w^e shall dismiss 
it with saying, that in our vievv^, Christianity never teaches that 
men are responsible for any sin but their own ; nor can they be 
guilty, or held liable to punishment^ in the. proper sense of that 
term, for conduct other than that w^hich has grown out of their 
own wills. Indeed v/e see not how, if it were a dogma of a pre- 
tended revelation, that God might at pleasure, and by an arbi- 
trary decree, make crime pass from one individual to another — 
striking onward from age to age, and reaching downward to 
"the last season of recorded time," — punished in the original 
offender ; repunished in his children ; and punished again and 
again, by infinite multiples, in countless ages and mdividuals — 
and all this judicial infliction, for a single act, performed cycles 
of ages before the individuals lived, we see not liow any evidence 
could shake our intrinsic belief that this is unjust and improbable. 



XXXVl 



mTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



We confess we hare imbibed other views of justice; and we 
believe that he who can find the head and members of this the- 
ory in the Bible, will have no difficulty in finding there any of 
the dogmas of the darkest night that ever settled on the church. 

But, that the consequences or results of an action may pass over 
from one individual to another, and affect the condition of unborn 
generations, we hold to be a doctrine of the sacred Scriptures, 
and to be fully sustained by the analogy of nature.* And no 
one who looks at the scriptural account of the fall and recovery 
of man, can doubt that it is a cardinal point in the system. AVe 
affirm that it is a doctrine fully sustained by the course of events 
around us. Indeed the fact is so common, that we should be 
exhausting the patience of our readers by attempting to draw out 
formal instances. Who is ignorant of the progressive and 
descending doom of the drunkard ? Who is stranger to the 
common fact, that his intemperance wastes the property which 
was necessary to save a wife and children from beggary — that 
his appetite may be the cause of his family's being despised, illi- 
terate and ruined ; that the vices which follow in the train of his 
intemperance, often encompass his ofispring, and that they too 
are profane, unprincipled, idle, and loathsome ? So of the mur- 
derer, the thief, the highwayman, the adulterer. The result of 
their conduct rarely terminates with themselves. They are lost 
to society, and their children are lost with them. Xor does the 
evil stop here. ]>sot merely are the external circumstances of the 
child affected by the misdeeds of a parent, but there is often a 
dark suspicion resting upon his very soul, there is felt to be in 
him a hereditary presumptive tendency to crime, which can be 
removed only by a long course of virtuous conduct, and which 
even then the slightest circumstance re-excites. Is an illegiti- 
mate child to blame for the aberration of a mother ? Yet who 
is ignorant of the fact that, in very few conditions of society, 
such a son is placed on a level with the issue of lawful wedlock ? 
So the world over, we approach the son of the drunkard, the 
murderer, and the traitor, with all these terrible suspicions. The 
father's deeds shut our doors against him. Nor can he be raised 
to the level of his former state, but by a long course of purity 
and well-doing. Now in all these cases, we see a general course 
of things in Divine Providence, corresponding, in important 
respects, to the case of Adam and his descendants. AYe do not 
jdeem the child guilty, or ill-deserving, hut societi/ is so organized^ 
' and sin is so great an evil, that the proper effects cannot he seen, and 
the proper terror he infused into the mind to deter from it, ivithout 
such an organization. It is true that these results do not take place 
with undeviating certainty. It is not always the case that the 

* Rom. V. 12—1 9 ; 1 Cor. xv, 21, 22, 49 ; Josh. vii. 24, 25 ; Ex. xvii. 16 ; 
1 Sam. XV. 2, 3 ; Alatt. xxiii. 35. This view is by no means confined to 
revelation. The ancient heathen long since observed it, and regarded it 
as the great principle on which the woild was governed. Thus Hesiod 
says, TToWaKi. Kai ^v^iTTaSa -oXij kukov av6pos evavpov : And Horacc says, 
Qruicquid delirant reges plectuntur Achi\i. 



IKTKODUCIORY ESSAY. 



XXXVll 



child of a drunkard is intemperate, idle, or illiterate; while it is 
always the case, that a descendant of Adam is a sinner. In the 
former case, there may be other laws of government to prevent 
the regular operations of the plan. In the latter, God has not 
seen fit wholly to interrupt the regular process in a single 
instance. Even when men are renewed — as the child of The 
drunkard may be removed from the regular curse of the parent's 
conduct — the renewed man still is imperfect, and still suffers 
pain and death. 

But, we know, there is an appearance of much that is formi- 
dable in the difficulty, that a single act, and that a most unim- 
portant one, should result in so many crimes and calamities. 
But the objection, as we have seen, lies against the course of 
nature, as truly as against the revealed facts resulting from the 
connexion of Adam and his descendants. To lessen the objec- 
tion, we would further remark, that it is not the outward form of 
an action which determines its character and results. The blow 
which in self-defence strikes a highwayman to the earth, may 
have the same physical qualities, as that v/hich reached the 
heart of the venerable White of Salem. It is the circumstances, 
the attendants, the relations, the links that bind the deed to 
others, which determine the character of the action. Adam's 
act had this towering preeminence, that it was the first in the 
newly created globe, and committed by the first of mortals ; the 
prospective father of immense multitudes. In looking at it, 
then, we are to turn from the mere physical act, to run the eye 
along the conduct of his descendants, and to see if we can find 
any other deeds that shall he first in a series, and then to mark 
their results, and in them we shall find the proper analogy. Now 
it is evident, that here Vv'e shall find no other act that will have 
the same awful peculiarity as the deed of our first father. But 
are there no acts that can be set over against this, to illustrate 
its unhappy consequences ? "We look, then, at the deed of a man 
of high standing whose character has been blameless, and whose 
ancestry has been noble. \Ye suppose him, in an evil moment, 
to listen to temptation, to fall into the wiles of the profligate, or 
even to become a traitor to his country. Now who does not see 
how the fact of this being di first and characteristic deed, may 
entail deeper misery on his friends, and stain the escutcheon of 
his family with a broader and fouler blot? Or take an instance 
which approaches still nearer to the circumstances of our first 
parents' crime. One false step, the first in a before virtuous 
female of honourable parentage, and high standing, spreads sack- 
cloth and wo over entire families, and sends the curse prolonged 
far into advancing years. It needs no remark to show how 
much that deed may difter in its results, from any subsequent 
acts of profligacy in that individual. The first act has spread 
mourning throughout every circle of friends. Lost now to vir- 
tue, and disowned by friends, the subsequent conduct may be 
regarded as in character , and the results terminate only in the 
offending individual. It is impossible here not to recur to the 



xxxvlii 



INTRODUCTORY ESSA"?. 



melancholy case of Dr. Dodd. His crime differed not from other 

acts of forgery except in his circumstances. It was a first deed, 
the deed of a man of distinction, of supposed piety, of a pure and 
high profession, and the deed stood out with a dreadful pre- 
eminence in the eyes of the world ; nor could the purity of his 
profession, nor the eloquence of Johnson, nor the voice of thirty 
thousand petitioners, nor the native compassion of George III. 
save him from the tremendous malediction of the law — a death 
as conspicuous as the offence was primary and eminent. 

We think from this peculiarity of a first offence, we can meet 
many of the objections which men allege against the doctrines 
of revelation, on the subject. If further illustration were needed, 
we might speak of the opposite, and advert to the well-known 
fact, that a first distinguished act in a progenitor may result in 
the lasting good of those connected with him by the ties of kin- 
dred or of law. Who can reflect w^ithout emotion on the great 
deed by which Columbus discovered the western world, and the 
glory it has shed on his family, and the interest which in conse- 
quence of it has arisen at the very name, and which we feel for 
any mortal that is connected with him T Who can remember 
without deep feeling, the philanthropy of Howard, and the death- 
less lastre which his benevolence has thrown over his family and 
his name ? Who thinks of the family of Washington without 
some deep emotion, running back to the illustrious man whose 
glory has shed its radiance around Mount Vernon, around his 
family, around our capital, and over all our battle-fields, and all 
the millions of whom he was the constituted political father ? 
There is a peculiarity in the great first deed which sheds a lustre 
on all that, by any laws of association, can be connected with it. 
Compared with other deeds, having perhaps the same physical 
dimensions, it is like the lustre of the sun diffusing his beams 
over all the planets, when contrasted with the borrowed, reflected 
rays of the moon which shines upon our little globe. 

Now v/e think there is an analogy between these cases and 
that of Adam, because we think it is a fixed principle in moral 
as in natural legislation, that the same law is applicable to the 
same facts. We find a series of facts on the earth, and a simi- 
lar series in the movement of the planets, and we have a single 
term to express the whole — gravitation. We deem it unphilo- 
sophical to suppose the nature is there, in the same facts, sub- 
jected to different laws, from what passes before our own eyes. 
So when we find one uniform process in regard to moral con- 
duct — when we find 7'esults^ consequences and not crimes travel- 
ling from father to son, and holding on their unbroken way to 
distant ages, why should we hesitate to admit, that to a great 
extent, at least, the facts respecting Adam and his descendants 
fall under the same great law of divine providence ? We do not 
nere deny, that there may have been beyond this a peculiarity in 
the case of Adam, which must be referred to the -decisions of 
divine wisdom, and justified on other principles than those of any 
oiown analogy. But we never can adopt that system which 



IJJTEODUCTOHY ESSAY. 



tramples on all the analogies which actually exist, and holds 
men to be personally ansicerable, and actually ;?t/??/sAec? by a just 
God, for an act committed thousands of years before they were 
born. Such a doctrine is no where to be found in the scriptures. 

2. As the result of this act of Adam, Christianity affirms that, 
man is depraved. It has marked the character and extent ot 
this depravity, with a particularity which we w^onder has evei 
been called into debate.* It affirms that man is by nature des- 
titute of holiness, and it is on the ground of this fact that the 
Christian scheme w^as necessary. There is one great principle 
running through the wdiole of this scheme, which renders it 
what it is, viz. — the appointment of a Mediator. It regards man 
as so fallen, and so helpless, that but for an extraordinary inter- 
vention — the appointment of some being that should interpose 
to save, it was impossible that any native elasticity in the human 
powers or wdll, or any device w^hich human ingenuity might fall 
on, should raise him up, and restore him to the favour of God. 
Now the thing wffiich most manifestly characterizes this sys- 
tem, is the doctrine of substitution — or the fact that Jesus Christ 
li ved for others, toiled for others, and died for others ; or, in othei 
"words, that God bestow^s upon us pardon and iife in consequence 
of what his Son has done and suffered in our stead. t The 
peculiarity w'hich distinguishes this system from all others, is, 
that man does not approach his Maker directly, but only through 
the atonement of the Son of God. 

Now^ in recurring to the analogy of nature, w^e have only to 
ask, wdiether calamities wffiich are hastening to fall on us, are 
ever put back by the intervention of another? Are there any 
cases in w^hich either our own crimes or the manifest judgments 
ot God, are bringing ruin upon us, wffiere that ruin is turned 
aside by the interposition of others ? Now we at once cast our 
eyes backward to all the helpless and dangerous periods of our 
being. Did God come forth directly, and protect us in the 
defenceless period of infancy? Who w^atched over the sleep of 
the cradle, and guarded us in sickness and helplessness ? It was 
the tenderness of a mother bending over our slumbering child- 
hood, foregoing sleep, and rest, and ease, and hailing toil and 
care that ice might be defended. Why then is it strange, that 
when God thus ushers us into existence through the pain and 
toil of another, that he should convey the blessings of a higher 
existence by the groans and pangs of a higher mediator ? God 
gives us know^ledge. But does he come forth to teach us by 
inspiration, or guide us by his ow^n hand to the fountains of 
wisdom ? It is by years of patient toil in others, that we pos- 
sess the elements of science, the principles of morals, the endow- 
ments of religion. He gives us food and raiment. Is the 
Great Parent of Benevolence seen clothing us by his ow^n hand, 

* Rom. i. 21—32 ; iii. 10—19 ; V. 12 ; vui. 6, 7. Gen. viii. 21. Ps. xiv 
1—3. Epli. ii. 1 — 3. iJoimv. 19. John iii. 1 — 6. 

t Joim i. 29. Eph. v. 2. 1 John ii. 2 ; iv. 10. Isa. hii, 4. Rom. iii 
24,25. 2 Cor. V. 14, I Pet. ii. 21. 



XI 



INTRODUCTORy ESSAY. 



or ministering directly to our wants ? Who makes provisions 
for the sons and daughters of feebleness, or gaiety, or idleness ? 
Who bat the care-worn and anxious father and mother, who toil 
that their offspring may receive these benefits from their hands. 
Why then may not the garments of salvation, and the manna 
of life, come through a higher mediator, and be the fruit of 
severer toil and sufferings ? Heaven's highest, richest, benefits 
are thus conveyed to the race through thousands of hands acting 
as mediums between man and God» It is thus, through the 
mstrumentality of others, that the Great Giver of life breathes 
health into our bodies and vigour into our frames. And why 
should he not reach also the sick and weary mind — the soul Ian 
guishing under a long and wretched disease, by the hand of a 
mediator? Why should he not kindle the glow of spiritual 
health on the v/an cheek, and infuse celestial life into our veins, 
by him who is the great physician of souls ? The very earth, 
air, waters, are all channels for conveying blessings to us from 
God. Why then should the infidel stand back, and all sinners 
froAvn, when we claim the same thing in redemption, and affirm 
that, in this great concern, " there is one mediator between God 
and man, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself a ransom 
for all." 

But still it may be said, that this is not an atonejnent. We 
admit it. We maintain only that it vindicates the main princi- 
ple of the atonement, and shows that it is according to a gene- 
ral laiv, that God imparts spiritual blessings to us through a 
mediator. What we ask is the precise objectionable point in 
the atonement, if it be not, that God aids us in our sins and 
woes, by the self-denial and sufferings of another ? And v\^e 
ask, whether there is any thing so peculiar in such a system, as 
to make it intrinsically absurd and incredible ? Now we think 
there is nothing more universal and indisputable than a system 
of nature like this. God has made the whole animal world 
tributary to man. And it is by the toil and pain of creation, 
rhat our wants are supplied, our appetites gratified, our bodies 
sustained, our sickness alleviated — that is, the impending evils 
of labour, famine, or disease are put away by these substituted 
toils and privations. By the blood of patriots he gives us the 
blessings of liberty, — that is, by theh- sufferings in our defence 
we are delivered from the miseries of rapine, murder, or slavery, 
which might have encompassed our dwellings. The toil of a 
father, is the price by which a son is saved from ignorance, 
depravity, want, or death. The tears of a mother, and her long 
watchfulness, save from the perils of infancy, and an early 
death. Friend aids friend by toil; a parent foregoes rest for a 
child ; and the patriot pours out his blood on the altars of free- 
dom, that others may enjoy the blessings of liberty — that is, that 
others mfiy not be doomed to slavery, want, and death. 

Yet still it may be said, that we have not come, in the analogy, 
to the precise point of the atonement, in producing reconciliaticn 
with God by the sufferings of another. We ask, then, what is 



INTRODUCTOKY ESSAY, 



Xli 



the scripture account of the effect of the atonement m producing 
reconciliation ? Man is justly exposed to suffernig. He is 
guilty, and it is the righteous purpose of God that the guilty 
should suffer. God is so opposed to him that he will inflict 
suffering on him, unless by an atonement it is prevented. By 
the intervention of the atonement, therefore, the scriptures 
affirm that such sufferings shall be averted. The man shall be 
saved from the impending calamity. Sufficient for all the pur- 
poses of justice, and of just government, has fallen on the sub- 
stitute, and the sinner may be pardoned and reconciled to God. 
Now, we affirm, that in every instance of the substituted suffer- 
ings, or self-denial of the parent, the patriot, or the benefactor, 
there occurs a state of things so analogous to this, as to shov/ 
that it is in strict accordance with the just government of God; 
and to remove all the objections to the peculiarity of the atone- 
ment. Over a helpless babe — ushered into the world, naked, 
feeble, speechless, there impends hunger, cold, sickness, sudden 
death — a mother's watchfulness averts these evils. Over a 
nation impend revolutions, sword, famine, and the pestilence. 
The blood of the patriot averts these, and the nation smiles in 
peace. Look at a particular instance. Xerxes poured his mil 
lions on the shores of Greece. The vast host darkened all the 
plains, and stretched towards the capitol. In the train there 
followed weeping, blood, conflagration, and the loss of liberty. 
Leonidas almost alone, stood in his path. He fought. Who 
can calculate the effects of the valour and blood of that single 
man and his compatriots in averting calamities frosi Greece, 
and from other nations struggling in the cause of freedom? 
Who can tell how much of rapine, of cruelty, and of groans and 
tears it turned away from that nation ? 

Now we by no means affirm that this is all that is meant by an 
atonement, as revealed by Christianity. Vve affirm only, that 
there is a sufficient similarity in the tvro cases, to remove the 
points of objection to an atonement, made by the infidel, — to 
show that reconciliation by the suft^erings of another, or a putting 
away evils by the intervention or a mediator, is not a violation 
of the analogies of the natural and moral world. Indeed we 
should have thought it an argument for the rejection of a sys- 
tem, if it had not contemplated the removal of evils by the toils 
and pains of substhution. We maintain that the system of the 
Unitarians which denies all such substitution, is a violation of 
all the modes in which God has yet dispensed his blessings to 
-men. In the nature of the case, there is all the antecedent pre- 
sumption there could be, that, if God intended to confer saving;* 
blessings on mankind, it would be, by the interposition of the 
toils, groans, and blood, of a common m.ediatmg friend. The 
well known case of the kmg of the Locrians, is only an instance 
of the way in which reconciliation is to be brought about among 
men. He made a law that the adulterer should be punished 
with the loss of his eyes. His son was the first offender. The 
feelings- of the father and the justice of the king conflicted 



xlii 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



Keconciliation was produced by suffering the loss of one eye 
himself, and inflicting the remainder of the penalty on his son. 

But still, there are two points in the atonement so well sub- 
stantiated, and yet apparently contradictory, that it becomes an 
intere-sting inquiry, whether both positions can find an analogy in 
the course of events. The first is, that the atonement was origin- 
ally applicable to all men — that it was not limited by its nature 
to any class of m.en, or any particular individuals — that it was 
an offering made for the race,* and is, when made, in the widest 
and fullest sense, the property of man ; and the second is, that it 
is actually applied to only a portion of the race, and that it was 
the purpose of God that it should be so applied.! 

Now in regard to the first aspect of the atonement suggested, 
we can no more doubt that it had this original universal appli- 
cability, than we can any of the plainest propositions of the 
Bible. If this is not clear, nothing can be clear in the use of the 
Greek and English tongues — and we discern in this, we think, a 
strict accordance with the ordinary provisions which God has 
made for man. We look at any of his gifts — from the smallest 
that makes life comfortable, to the richest in redemption, and we 
shall not find one, that in its nature^ is limited in its applicability 
to any class of individuals. The sun on which we look sheds 
his rays on all — on all alike ; the air we breathe has an original 
adaptation to all who may inhale it, and is ample for the want of 
any number of millions. From the light of the feeblest star, to 
full-orbed day ; from the smallest dew drop, to the mountain 
torrent ; from the blushing violet, to the far scented magnolia ; 
there is an original applicability of the gifts of providence to all 
the race : they are fitted to man as man^ and the grandeur of 
God's beneficence appears in spreading the earth with fruits and 
flowers, making it one wide garden, in place of the straitened 
paradise that was lost. We might defy the most acute defender 
of the doctrine of limited atonement, to produce an instance in 
the provisions of God, where there was a designed limitation in 
the nature of the thing. We shall be slow to believe that God 
has not a uniform plan in his mode of governing men. 

But still it will be asked, what is the use of a universal atone- 
ment, if it is not actually applied to all ? Does God work in 
vain ? Or would he make a provision in the dying groans of 
his Son, that was to be useless to the universe ? We might 
say here, that in our view, there is no waste of this provision, — 
that the suflerings which were requisite for the race, were only 
those which were demanded in behalf of a single individual ; 
and that we are ignorant of the way of applying guages and 
decimal admeasurements and pecuniary computations to a grand 
moral transaction. But we reply, that it is according to God's 
way of doing things, that many of his piovisions should appear 
to us to be vain. We see in this, the hand of the same God 

*2Cor. V. 14, 15. iJohnii. 2. Heb, ii. 9. Johniii. 16,17; vi. 51. 2Pet.ii. i. 
tisa. liii. 10. John xvii. 2. Eph. i. 3—11. Rom. viii. 29,30; iv. 
;5— 24. John VI. 37, 39. 2Tiin. i.ix. 



INTKODTJCTORT ESSAY. xliil 

that pours the rays of noon-day on barren sands, and genial 
showers on desert rocks, where no man is — to our eye, though 
not to his^ in vain. AVho knows not that the sun sheds his daily 
beams on half the globe covered with trackless waters; and 
around thousands of dungeons w^here groans in darkness the 
prisoner ? But some Solon or Cadmus may yet cross these 
oceans, to bear lav/ and letters to the barbarian ; some Howard 
to pity and relieve the sufferer; som^e Xavier or Vanderkemp to 
tell benighted men of the dying and risen Son of God. So we 
say of the atonement. It is not useless. Other ages shall open 
their eyes upon this sun of righteousness; shall wash in this 
open fountain ; shall pluck the fruit from this tree of life ; shall 
apply for healing to the balm of G-ilead and find a physician there. 

But still it was the purpose — the decree of God, that this atone- 
ment should be actually applied to but a part — we believe ulti- 
mately a large part of the human family. By this we mean, 
that it is in fact so applied, and that this fact is the expression of 
the purpose or decree in God. So it is with all the objects we 
have mentioned. Food is not given to all. Health is not the 
inheritance of all. Liberty, peace, and wealth, are diffused un- 
equally among men. We interpret the decrees of God, so far 
as we can do it, by facts ; and we say that the actual result^ by 
whatever means brought about, is the expression of the design 
of God. Nor can any man doubt, that the dissemination of 
these blessings is to be traced to the ordering of God. Is it 
owing to any act of man, that the bark of Peru was so long 
unknown, or that the silver of Potosi slept for ages unseen by 
any human eye ? Is there not evidence, that it was according 
to the good pleasure of the Giver, that the favour should not be 
bestowed on men till Columbus crossed the main, and laid open 
the treasures and the materia medica of the west, to an avaricious 
and an afflicted world ? We are here struck with another im- 
portant analogy in the manner in which God's plans are de- 
veloped. AVho would have imagined that so important a matter 
as the discovery of a new world, should have depended on the 
false reasonings and fancy of an obscure Genoese ? Who would 
have thought that all the wealth of Potosi, should have depended 
for its discovery, on so unim.portant a circumstance, as an 
Indian's pulling up a shrub by accident in hunting a deer ? So 
in the redemption of man, — in the applicability of the atone- 
ment. Who is ignorant that the reformation originated in the 
private tlioughts of an obscure man in a monastery. A Latin 
Bible fallen on as accidentally, and a treasure as much unknown, 
as Hualpi's discovery of the mines of Potosi, led the way to the 
most glorious series of events since the days of the apostles. 

But it is still said, that it is unreasonable for men to suffer in 
consequence of not being put in possession of the universal 
atonement; and that Christianity affirms there is no hope of 
salvation hut in the Son of God.^ So it does. But the affirma- 
tion is not that men are guilty for not being acquainted with that 
* AcvS iv. 12. 



xliv 



INTRODUCTOHY ESSAY. 



scheme, but that they lie under the curses of the antecedent stale 
before mentioned, from which Christianity came to dehver. 
The Hindoo suffers and dies under the rage of a burning fever. 
The fault is not that he is ignorant of the virtues of quinine, nor 
is he punished for this ignorance of its healing qualities ; but he 
is lying under the operation of the previous state of things, from 
which medicine contemplates his rescue. Half the world are 
shut out from benefits, which they might enjoy by being made 
acquainted wdth the provisions for their help. Their sufferings 
are not di punishment for this want of knowledge. They are the 
operation of the system from which they might be delivered by 
the provisions made for their welfare. How much suffering 
might have been saved, had Jenner lived a century earlier. Is 
it contrary then to the analogy of nature, to suppose that men 
may suffer in consequence of the want of the gospel, and even 
that in eternity they may continue under the operation of that 
previous state of things, to which the gospel has never been 
applied to relieve them ? He who opposes Christianity because 
it implies that man may suffer if its healing balm is not applied, 
Knows not what he says, nor whereof he affirms. He is scoff"- 
ing at the analogy of the world, and calling in question the wis- 
dom of all the provisions of God to aid suffering man. 

3. On the ground of man's depravity, and of the necessity of 
an atonement for sin, the gospel declares that wiihout a change 
of heart and life, none can be saved.* It affirms that contrition 
for past sins, and confidence in the Son of God, are indispensable 
for admission to heaven. Now we scarce know of any point on 
which men so reluctate as they do here. That so sudden, tho- 
rough, and permanent a revolution should be demanded, that is 
should be founded on things so unmeaning as repentance and 
faith, that all men can enjoy or suffer for ever should result from 
a change like this, they deem a violation of every principle of 
justice. And yet, perhaps, there is no doctrine of revelation 
which is more strongly favoured by the analogy of nature. Can 
any one doubt that men often experience a sudden and most 
important revolution of feeling and purpose ? We refer not here 
to a change in religion, but in regard to the principles and the 
actions of common life? Who is ignorant that from infancy to 
old age, the mind passes through many revolutions — that as we 
leave the confines of one condition of our being, and advance to 
another, a change, an entire change, becomes indispensable, or 
the whole possibility of benefitting ourselves by the new con- 
dition is lost. He who carries with him into youth the playful- 
ness and follies of childhood, who spends that season of his life 
in building houses with cards, or in trundling a hoop, is charac- 
terized by weaknesSj and must lose all the benefits appropriate to 
that new period of existence. He who goes into middle life 
with a "bosom that carries anger as the flint bears fire" — who 
has not suffered his passions to cool, and his mental frame to 
become fixed in the compactness of mature and vigorous life 
John iii. 3, 5, 36. Blark xvi. 16. 



INTPwODUCTORY ESSAY. 



xlv 



gives a pledge that the bar, the bench, or the desk — the counting- 
room, the office, or the plough, have little demand for his ser- 
vices, and that his hopes will be for ever blasted. The truth is, 
that at the beginning of each of these periods, there was a 
change demanded — that on that change depended all that fol- 
lowed in the next succeeding, perhaps in every succeeding period, 
and that, when the change does not exist, the period is charac- 
terized by folly, indolence, ignominy, or vice. The same remark 
might be extended to old age, and to all the new circumstances 
in which men may by placed. We ask, then, why some revolu- 
tions similar m results- -w^e mean not in nature — should not take 
place in reference to the passage from time to eternity? 

But our argument is designed to bear on the great mora 
change called regeneration. Now no fact, we think, is more 
common, than that men often undergo a complete transformation 
in their moral character. It would be difficult to meet, in the 
most casual and transitory manner, with any individual, who 
could not remark that his own life had been the subject of many 
similar revolutions, and that each change fixed the character of 
the subsequent period of his existence. At one period he was 
virtuous. Then temptation crossed his path — and the descrip- 
tion Vv-hich v/e would have given of him yesterday, would by no 
means suit him to-day. Or at one time, he was profligate, pro- 
fane, unprincipled. By some process, of which he could perhaps 
scarce give an account, he became a different man. It might 
have been gradual — the result of long thought, — of many reso- 
lutions, made and broken, — of many appeals, of much weeping, 
and of many efforts to break away from his com.panions. Now, 
what it is important for us to remark is, that this change has 
given birth to a new course of life, has initiated him into a new 
companionship, and has itself fixed all the joys or sorrows of the 
coming period Such revolutions in character seem like the 
journeyings of the Arabian, wandermg, he knows scarcely Vvhi- 
ther, without compass, comfort, or food, till in his progress he 
comes to a few spreading oases in the desert. His reaching this 
paradise in the wide waste of sand, decides of course the nature 
of his enjoyments till he has crossed it, and secures a release 
from the perils of the burning desert. In human life, we have 
ofte?i marked an ascent to some such spot of living green : we 
have seen the profligate youth leaving the scene of dissipation^ 
and treading with a light heart and quick step the path of virtue, 
beside cool living streams and beneath refreshing bowers. 
Christianity affirms that a similar change is indispensable before 
man can tread the broad and peaceful plains of the skies. And 
it affirms that such a change will fix the condition of all that new 
state of being, — or, in other words, will secure an eternal abode 
beneath the tree of life, and fast by the river of God. We wait 
to learn that, in this, religion has made any strange or unrea- 
sonable demand. 

\, It is a further difficulty in Christianity, that it should make 
such amazing bliss or wo dependent on things of apparently so 



xlvi 



rN'TRODUCTORT ESSAY. 



little consequence as repentance and faith. We shall not nere 
attempt to show the philosophy of this, or even to set up a vindi- 
cation. We affii-m only that man's whole condition in this life 
often depends on changes as minute, apparently as unphiloso- 
phical, and as unimportant. What is seemingly of less conse- 
quence in our view, when we tread the vale of years, than the 
change from infancy to childhood — and again to boyhood — and 
then even to manhood — a change from one unimportant object to 
another ? What is often apparently a matter of less magnitude 
than for a young man to withdraw from some haunt of pleasure 
— a thing requiring but little resolution, but it may be stretching 
in its results to all his coming life ? A change of an opinion, 
or a habit, or a companion, may be often a most unimportant 
circumstance; and yet it may determine one's character for the 
entire life. It is recorded of Paley, one of the acutest and most 
powerful men of the Christian church, that he was, v^'hen in 
college, idle, and a spendthrift. One morning a rich and dissi- 
pated fellow^ student came into his room -with this singular 
reproof. "Paley, I have been thinking v/hat a fool you are. 1 
have the means of dissipation, and can afford to be idle. You 
are poor and cannot afford it. /should make nothing if I were 
to apply myself. You are capable of rising to eminence, — and, 
pressed with this truth, I have been kept awake during the whole 
night, and have now come solemnly to admonish you.'' To this 
singular admonition, and to the change consequent upon it, 
Paley owes his eminence, and the church some of the ablest 
defences of the truth of religion. Now who, beforehand, would 
have thought of suspending the labours of such a man, perhaps 
his eternal destiny, and so many of the proofs of Christianity, on 
a change wrought in a manner so singular and surprising. If 
as no one can deny, man's doom in this life may depend on 
revolutions of such a nature, we are ignorant of any reason why 
the doom of another state may not be fixed by a similar law. 

Perhaps the doctrine which has appeared to most infidels 
entirely unmeaning and arbitrary, is that which demands faith 
as the condition of salvation. Repentance is a doctrine of more 
obvious fitness. But the demand of faith seems :to be an arbi- 
trary and unmeaning appointment. And yet we think it indu- 
bitable, that on man's heJUf depends his whole conduct and des - 
tiny in this life. What enterprise would have been more 
unwise than that of Columbus, if he had not had a leliefxh^il by 
stretching along to the west, he might reach the Indies ? What 
more foolish than the conduct of Tell, and Wallace, and Wash- 
ington, if not sustained by a persuasion that their country might 
be free ? What more mad than the toils of the young man bend- 
ing his powers to the acquisition of learning, if he were not sus- 
tained hy faith in some yet unpossessed honour or emolument? 
What more frantic than for the merchant to commit his treasurer 
to the deep, if he did not believe that prosperous gales would re- 
waft the vessel, laden with, riches, into port? We might also 
Bay x\\d,x faith, or confidence in others is denaanded in every enter- 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xlvii 

prise that man ever undertook, and is the grand principle which 
conducts it to a happy result. We need only ask what would be 
the condition of a child, without faith or confidence in a parent; 
of a pupil, without reliance on the abilities of his teacher ; of a 
subject, distrusting the sovereign ; of a soldier, doubting the skill 
or prowess of his commander ; of a tradesman, with no reliance 
on those whom he employs? What would be the condition of 
commercial transactions, if there w^ere no established confidence 
between men of different nations ? What the condition of arts, 
and of arms, if this great pervading principle were at once cut 
off? In all these instances, moreover, this principle of faith is 
the index and measure of the aid to be expected from others. Is 
it any new^ principle that the child which has no confidence in a 
father, usually fails of his favour; or that the pupil should fail 
of benefit, if he doubts the qualifications of his teacher ? And 
would any single desolating blow so cripple all enterprises, and 
carry such ruin into the political, the military, and the commer- 
cial world, as to destroy the faith wdiich one man reposes in 
another ? Is it then a strange and unknown doctrine, w^hen reli- 
gion says that the most important benefits are suspended on 
faith? Is it any thing more than one instance of a general 
principle, which confers peace and wealth on children ; learning 
on the scholar ; success on the tradesman ; liberty on those who 
struggle for it ; and even laurels and crowns on those who pant 
in the race for honour and in the conflicts of war. We do not 
deem it strange, therefore, that God should have incorporated 
faith into a scheme of religion ; and proclaimed from pole to pole 
that he w^ho has no confidence in counsellors and guides, shall 
be without the benefit of counsel and guidance; and that he who 
has no confidence in the Son of God, shall be dissociated from 
all the benefits of his atonement. 

Let it be remembered, also, that the faith which is demanded 
in the business of life, is very often reposed in some persons 
w^hom we have never seen. How fev/ subjects of any empire 
have ever seen the monarch by whom they are governed ? Nay, 
perhaps the man w^ho holds our destiny in his hand may be on 
the other side of the globe. Under his charge may be the pro- 
perty which we embarked on the bosom of the deep ; or, it may 
be, the son whom we have commiitted to him for instruction. 
Mountains may rise, or oceans roll their billows for ever to 
separate us; but the bonds of faith may be unsevered by the 
coldest snows, unscathed by the m^ost burning sun, and unbroken 
amid all the rude heavings of ocean, and the shocks of nations. 
We ask, why may not a similar band stretch toward heaven, and 
be fixed to the throne of the Eternal King ? Is it more absurd 
that / should place my confidence in the unseen monarch of the 
skies whom I have not seen, than that my neighbour should 
place reliance on the king of the celestial empire, or of Britain, 
or of Hawaii, alike unseen by him ? 

But there is an amazing stupidity among men on the subject 
of religion, and it cannot be, we are told, that God should make 



xlviii 



rsTEODITTORY ESSAY. 



eternal life dependent on matters in which men feel so little 
interest. We might reply to this, that it is not the fault of God 
that men are so indifferent. He has done enough to arouse them. 
If the thunders of his law, the revelation of his love in redemp- 
tion, and the announcement that there is a heaven and a hell, 
are not adequate to arouse the faculties of man, we know^ not 
what further could be demanded. God has no other system of 
WTath to bear on human spirits ; and heaven and hell im bosom 
no other topics of appeal. But we reply further, that no fact is 
more familiar to us than that all men's interests in life suffer for 
want of sufficient solicitude concerning them. By mere heed- 
lessness, a man may stumble down a precipice, — nor will the 
severity of the fall be mitigated by any plea that he was thought- 
less of his danger. Thousands of estates have been wrecked by 
want of timely attention. Character is often ruined, by want 
of proper solicitude in selecting companions. Nay, the king of 
terrors comes into our dwellings, perfectly unmoved by any 
inquiry vrhether we were awaiting his approach or not; and 
stands over our beds, and wields his dart, and chills our life- 
blood, with as much coolness and certainty as if w^e were pay- 
ing the closest attention to the evidences of his approach. And 
w^hy should we expect that mere indifference, or want of anxiety, 
should avert the consequences of crime in the eternal w^orld? 

It is also, we think, an undoubted doctrine of the Christian 
scheme, that the great change required in man is the work of 
God.^ And it is no small difficulty with the infidel, that so 
important results are dependent on a change which ovres its 
existence to the will of a distant being. Yet w^e cannot be insen- 
sible to the fact that all our mercies hang on the w'ill of this 
great, invisible God. When we say that the salubrity of the air, 
the wholesomeness of w^ater, the nutrition of plants, and the heal- 
ing power of medicine, all ow^e their efficacy to his will, we are 
stating a fact which physiology is at last coming to see and 
acknowledge. At all events, man does not feel himself strait- 
ened in obligation or in effort by the fact that the success of his 
exertions depends on causes unseen and unknown ? All but 
atheists acknowledge that health flows through the frame of 
man because God is its giver. Infancy puts on strength and 
walks; childhood advances to youth; man rises from a bed of 
sickness ; or fractured limbs again become compact, because God 
Fits in the heavens, and sends down his influence to rear, to 
strengthen, and to heal. Yet, does any one hesitate to put forth 
his energy for wealth, or his kindness to his children ; to take 
medicine, or to set a bone, because all these will be inefficacious 
without the blessing of God? But in all this He is as invisible, 
and, for aught that Christianity teaches to the contrary, as truly 
efficient, as in the vv^ork of saving men. And against all exer- 
tion in these matters, lie the same objections that are urged 
against effects in religion. 

^ John i. 13: in. 5. 8 ; Rom. ix. 16, 13 ; Epii. ii. 1 ; 1 Peter i. 3 ; 1 John 
V I ; EzeK. xi. 19 ; John vi. 44^ 45. 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xHx 

Nor do we deem the doctrAiie that man may be changed sud- 
denly, and by an influence 07'iginatin fr from some other source than 
his oivn mind^ at variance with the analogy of nature. We have 
already spoken of the fact, that sudden changes often take place 
in the minds of men; and that it is a doctrine of the Scriptures, 
that such a change is indispensable to an admission into heaven. 
We now proceed to remark, that such revolutions often bear the 
marks of being brought about by an external, and often an invi- 
sible, agency ; and that there are revolutions where it is not 
unphilosophical to ascribe them to the great and eternal Being 
in the heavens. Changes of opinion are almost uniformly the 
result of an influence foreign at first to our minds. It is the 
parent, the friend, the advocate, the flatterer, or the infidel, that 
has suggested the train of thought which results in an entire 
revolution in our ways of thinking. It is some external change 
in our business ; some success or disappointment ; some cutting 
off our hopes by an agency not our own ; or some sudden enlarge- 
ment of the opportunities for successful effort that fixes the pur- 
pose and revolutionizes the principles or the life. Or it is a voice 
from the tomb — the remembered sentiment of the now speech- 
less dead, that arrests the attention and transforms the character. 
Zeno and Epicurus have thus spoken to thousands of men in 
every age. Cicero in the forum^ and Plato in the schools, still 
put lorth an influence, stretching down from age to age, and ia 
tongues unspoken by them and unknown. Voltaire and Hume 
still lift their voices, and urge the young to deeds of shame and 
crime, and Volney and Paine still mutter from their graves, and 
beckon the world to atheism and pollution. Man may send an 
influence round the globe, and command it to go from age to 
age. Now, in all these instances, the influence is foreign and 
as certain as in any power of God contemplated in revelation . To 
our view, it is quite as objectionable, as a part of moral govern- 
ment, that men should thus dispose each other to evil, and ulti- 
mately to ruin, as that God should incline them to an amendment 
of character, and a deliverance from the " ills which fiesh is 
heir to." 

But how is man's freedom affected by all this ? We reply, 
equally in both cases, and not at all in either. Who ever felt, that 
he was fettered in deriving notions of stern virtue from Seneca, 
or of profligacy from Epicurus ? AVho dreams there is any com- 
pulsatory process in listening to the voice of Hume, or imbibing" 
the sentiments of Volney? Peter the hermit poured the thou- 
sands of Europe, and almost emptied kingdoms caparisoned for 
battle, on the plains of Asia. But he moved none against their 
will. Patrick Henry struck the notes of freedom, and a nation 
responded, and were changed from subjects of a British king to 
independent freemen ; but all were free in renouncing the pro- 
lection of the British crown, and their reverence for a British 
fttler. God influences countless hosts, pours upon darkened 
minds the love of more than mortal freedom, opens upon the 
souls the magnificence of eternity," and the renewed multitude 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



iread the path to life. Prompted to intense efforts by tne voice 
that calls to heaven — as he is who is led by the voice of his 
country to the field of blood, and who is changed from the peace- 
ful ploughman to the soldier treading in the gore of the slain — 
they dream not that there is any violation of their moral freedom. 
In all these cases the foreign influence exerted, (from whatever 
quarter it may have come,) has only convinced them as to the 
path of duty or of honour, and secured a conformity of their wills, 
to that of the unseen and foreign power. 

Nor does it alter the case, that in regeneration a higher influ- 
ence is exerted than that of mere moral suasion, since that influ- 
ence operates in perfect conformity with the laws of moral action 
and the freedom of the will. In all the cases supposed, the mind 
acts equally under the impulse of a foreign^ unseen influence ; 
and in all these cases we know, by the testimony of conscious- 
ness, that we are equally free. Any objection, therefore, 
against the existence of such an influence in regeneration, lies 
with equal force against the analogy of nature, in the w^hole 
world of mind around us. 

4. Religion affirms, that God exerts the poAver which he puts 
forth, in pursuance of a plan, or purpose, definitely fixed before 
the foundation of the world. It affirms in as intelligible a form 
as any doctrine was ever expressed in any of the languages of 
men, that in regard to the putting forth of his powder in saving 
tinners, there is no chance, no haphazard ; that the scheme lay 
before his eyes fully ; and that his acts are only the filling up of 
the plan, and Vv'ere contemplated, distinctly, w^hen God dwelt 
alone, in the stillness and solitude of his own eternity.* If such 
a doctrine is not revealed, we think it impossible that it could be 
revealed in any language. And we know of no single doctrine 
that has been more universally conceded by infidels to be in the 
scriptures ; none in the Bible that has been so often brought for- 
ward among their alleged reasons for rejecting it as a revelation ; 
none that has so frequently crossed the path of wicked men and 
revealed the secret rebellion of llieir hearts ; none that has called 
forth so much misplaced ingenuity from Socinians and Armi- 
nians, and timid men who v/ere afraid to trust the government 
of the world in the hands of its maker, as if he were not qualified 
for universal empire ; and none, therefore, which has in our view 
such prima facie proof that it is manifestly a doctrine of truth and 
excellence. But the outcry, it seem.s to us, against this doctrine, 
has been altogether gratuitous and unwise. For who is a 
stranger to the fact, that, from infancy to old age, we are more 
or less influenced by the plans or purposes of others ? The plan 
or pur])ose of a parent may determine almost every thing about 
the destiny of a child. The purpose to remove from regions of 
pestilence and malaria, may secure his health ; the change from 
one clime to another may determine the liberty he shall enjoy, 
the measure of his intelligence, the profession he- shall choose, 

^i^Eph. i. 4, 5. Rom. viii. 29, 30; ix. 15, 16, 18, 21. John xvii. 2 
2Thess. ii. 13. John vi. 37—39. 2 Tim. i. 9. 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



h 



and ultimately his doom here and hereafter. Nay, the parent's 
plan may fix the very college ^vhere he shall study ; the com- 
panions he shall choose ; the law office, or the seminary where 
he shall prepare for professional life ; and finally every thing 
which may establish his son in the world. So the plan of the 
infidel is successful in corruptmg thousands of the young ;— the 
purpose of Howard secured the welfare of thousands of prisoners ; 
the determination of Washington resulted in the independence of 
his country. In all these, and ten thousand other cases there is 
dL plan formed by other beings in respect to us which finally enters 
as a controlling element into our destiny. If it be said, that they 
all leave us free ; so we say of the decrees of God, that we have 
a like consciousness of freedom. In neither case does the foreign 
purpose cripple or destroy our freedom. In neither case does it 
make any difference whether the plan was formed an hour before 
the act, or has stood fixed for ages. All that could bear on our 
freedom would be the fact, that the purpose was previous to the 
deed — a circumstance that does noi alter the act itself^ whether 
the decree be formed by ourselves, by other men, or by God. 

But we remark further, that it is perfectly idle to object to the 
fact, that a plan or decree is contemplated in revelation ; and that 
God should confer benefits on some individuals which are with- 
held from others. Did any man, in his senses, ever dream that 
the race are in all respects on an equality ? Has there ever been 
a time, when one man has had just as much health as another ; 
when one has been as rich as another, or as much honoured ? To 
talk of the perfect equality of men, is one of the most unmeaning 
of all affirmations respecting the world. God has made differ- 
ences, is still making them, and will continue to do so. The very 
frame work of society is organized on such a principle, that men 
cannot be all equal. Even if the scheme of modern infidelity 
should be successful — if all society should be broken up ; and all 
property be meted out in specific dollars and cents to the idle and 
the industrious alike ; and every man should lose his interest in his 
own wife and daughter, and they should become the common 
inheritance of the world, and all law should be at an end — if this 
scheme should go into disastrous accomplishment, what princi- 
ple of perpetuity could there be devised? Who knows not that 
such a chaotic mass would settle down into some kind of order, 
and men be put in possession again of property, and some of the 
benefits ,of social life be again restored ? Man might better 
attempt to make all trees alike, and all hills plains, and all foun- 
tains of the same dimensions, than to attempt to level society, 
and bring the race into entire equality. To the end of time it 
will be true that some will be poor while others are rich ; that 
some will be sick while others are well ; that some will be en- 
dowed with gigantic intellects, and enriched with ancient and 
modern learning, while others v^'ill pine in want, or walk the 
humble, but not ignoble vale of obscurity. 

Kow we might as well object to this fixed economy of things, 
as to that Vv^hich affirms that God dispenses the blessings of 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



redemption according to his good pleasure. If God may confer 

one blessing on one individual which he withholds from another, 
we ask why he may not be a sovereign also in the dispensation 
of other favours ? We ask what principle of justice and good- 
ness is violated, if he imparts penitence and faith to one indi- 
vidual, that is not violated also if he gives him health while 
another pines in sickness ? We ask with emphasis, where is 
there more of partiality in giving the Christian's hope to Brai- 
nerd or Martyn, than there is in giving great talents to Newton 
or great wealth to Croesus ? And we put it to the sober thoughts 
of those who art; so fond of representing the doctrine that God 
bestov7s special grace on one and not on another, as unjust, 
tyrannical, and malignant, whether they are not lifting their voice 
against the manifest analogy of nature, and all the facts in the 
moral and material world ? We ask such a man to tread the 
silent streets of one city where the pestilence spreads its desola- 
tions, and then another filled with the din of business, and flushed 
with health and gain — to go through one land and see the fields 
smile v/ith golden grain, and rich with the vine and the orange, 
or fragrant with aromatics, and then through another where the 
heavens are brass, and the earth dust, and every green thing 
withers, and every man weeps while the horrors of famine stare 
him in the face ; to ago amidst one people and hear the clangor 
of arms, or another and see the squalidness of poverty, or another 
and see every river studded v/ith villages, and every village 
pointing its spire to heaven, and universal peace in all its borders, 
and education diffusing its blessings there — such observers we 
ask to tell us whether the destiny oi all men is equal, and why in 
religion God may not do as he does in respect to health, to free- 
dom, and to law ? 

We go further. We affirm, that unless this doctrine of elec- 
tion were found in the scriptures, the scheme would be taken out 
from all the analogy of the world. No man could recognise a 
feature of the plan on which God actually governs the universe, 
miless he found there the distinct affirmation that God had 
chosen us in Christ before the foundation of the world, and that 
it is " not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of 
God that showeth mercy." The system of conferring favours as 
he pleases; of giving wealth, and vigour and talent, and success, 
is so much a matter of sovereignty, and the secret, who shall 
possess these endoAvments, is so completely lodged in his bosom 
that any scheme to be conformed to the constitution and course 
of nature, must recognise this great principle, or we are shut up 
to the alternative, that the present doings of God are wrong, or 
the constitution of nature one of decisive evil. To us it seems, 
therefore, that they strike a blow of no ordinary violence and 
boldness, who denounce the purposes of God in the Bible as 
dark, partial, and malignant. Nor can we conceive a more rude 
assault on the whole frame-work of things, than- the popular 
scheme which denies that God has any purposes of special 
mercy; and that he confers any spiritual blessings on one which 



IKTEODUCTOKY ESSAY. 



he does not on all, — or, in other words, which attempts to sepa- 
rate the scheme of redemption from the Vv^hole analogy of things 
actually carried on in the world. 

But on this point the entire movement of the world bears the 
marks of being conducted according to a plan. We defy a man 
to lay his finger on a fact, which has not such a relation to other 
%cts as to show that it is part of a scheme — and if of a scheme, 
then of a purpose formed beforehand, Alexander the Great, in the 
vigour of life, and in the full career of conquest, was cut off by 
the act of God. Julian the apostate, in the same regions found 
also an early death, and gigantic plans were arrested by the hand 
of God with reference to other great purposes in the liberty or 
religion of man. Napoleon met the mighty arm of God in the 
snows of the north, and the monarch fell — and with him fell the 
last purpose of his life. In the midst of daring schemes, man 
often falls. God wields the dart to strike in an unusual manner, 
and the victim dies. He falls in with the great plans of the 
Deity, meets snows, or lightnings, or burning heats, or piercing 
colds that come round by the direction of the governor of the 
world, and the man sinks, and his plans give way to the higher 
purposes of the Almighty. 

Now we know, that at any particular stage of this process we 
could not discover that there was a plan or a scheme. And we 
know also that all the objections to such a scheme, result from 
looking at single portions of the plan, — parts dissociated from the 
whole. In this world we think there is this universal principle 
to be discovered ; apparent irregularity, resulting in ulti- 
mate ORDER. During any one of the six days of creation we 
should scarcely have seen even the outlines of the world that ulti- 
mately started up. Fix the eye on any single hour of the state 
of the embryo, the egg, or the chrysalis, and who would suppose 
there was any plan or purpose with reference to the man of god- 
like form and intelligence ; or the beauty of the peacock, the speed 
of the ostrich, the plaintive melody of the nightingale, or the 
gay colours of the butterfly ? We might illustrate this fully by 
a reference to the process of digestion. Who would suppose 
from the formation of the chyle, that there was any thing like a 
plan laid to supply a red fluid, or to give vigour to sinews, or 
firmness to the bones ? So in all the works of God. We are 
not surprised that unthinking men have doubted, whether God 
had a plan or decree. So unlike the termination is the actual 
process, and so little apparent reference is there to such a ter- 
mination, that we are not amazed that men start back at the 
annunciation of a decree. The truth is, that God has laid the 
process of his plan and decrees much deeper than his common 
acts. They require more patient thought to trace them — they 
are more remote and abstruse — and they cannot be seen, with- 
out embracing at once the commencement and termination, and 
the vast array of improbable n^ledla by which the result is to be 
secured. Yet to deny that God has a plan ; that his plan may 
be expressed by the word purpose or decree^ is as absurd as to 



INTKODUCTOPvY ESSAY. 



deny that the embryo is formed with reference to the future man, 
or the chyle to future blood, muscles, and bones. Who in look- 
ing upon a complicated piece of machinery would suppose that 
a plan was in operation tending to the manufacture of cloth, or 
ihe propelling of vessels, or the minuter works of art? What 
strikes the eye, is a collection of wheels moving without appa- 
rent order. Two wheels shall be beside each other moving in 
contrary directions ; yet all shall ultimately combine to the pro- 
duction of the contemplated result. Thus move the events of 
the world ; and so apparently irregular and unharmonious, but 
ultimately fixed and grand are the ways of God. As in a rapid, 
swollen stream, while the current rolls onward, here and there 
may be observed in the heaving waters, a small portion that 
seems to be setting in a contrary direction — an eddy that 
revolves near the shore, or that fills the vacancy made by some 
projecting tree or neck of land, yet all setting towards the ocean ; 
so roll on the great events in God's moral and material universe 
— setting onwards towards eternity in furtherance of a plan 
awful, grand, benevolent. 

We had intended to have noticed more fully the grand, peculiar 
doctrme of the gospel — the Trinity, But we have room only to say, 
that if, in the formation of man — in the structure of his m.ental 
and corporeal powers, and in their junction — if, in a being so con- 
stantly before our eyes, subjected, without material change, from 
age to age, to observation, — to the penetration of the most keen- 
sighted physiologists ; open to every analysis which the metaphy- 
sician or the anatomist may choose to make; if, in the organ- 
ization of such a being, there are mysteries which elude every 
eye, and mock every attempt at reconciliation, we do not think 
that religion is dealing out absurdities, when it tells of analogous 
depths in the unseen, inapproachable, and infinite God. Let the 
union of the soul and body be explained — the junction of a sub- 
stance, ponderable, mortal, inactive, corruptible, and thought- 
less, with one Avhere there is nothing hut thought — an invisi- 
ble, imponderable, intelligible, incorruptible, and unmeasurable 
substance, having relation neither to sight, nor hearmg, nor 
feeling, nor that we know of to place, — and yet taking hold 
by some invisible fixtures to the heavy organization, and direct- 
ing all its movements, and receiving its men emotions from the 
variations of the outward tenement : let all this be explained, 
and we think we shall be ready to advance with the explanation 
to any difficulty of structure in the divine mind. Nay, further, 
when we look at the animal frame itself, we are met with diffi- 
culties of a kindred nature, which set all our faculties at defiance. 
There is a system of hones — complete in itself — an entire anato- 
mical figure, which may be taken out and completed by itself — 
there is a system of arteries complete, and as capable of distinct 
contemplation; — there is the counterpart, an entire structure of 
arteries reversed^ comprising the venous system ; "there is an 
almost independant organization of nerves, which, but for their 
frail texture, could be taken out, looked at also apart ; and there 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



ly 



IS, an absolute set of muscles which could be set up by ihemselvos 
and separately surveyed, — and yet these different systems are 
driven together into the most compact form ; made to unite as 
friendly brethren, and cemented and bound, so as to make up the 
frame-work of man. Now, we affirm, that if these different in* 
dependent systems are thus made to dwell in a single frame ; — 
if we have no conception of a man w^ithout all this complication, 
and scarcely with it, that a revelation could be scarcely credible, 
unless there were some analogous difficulties in the being of ? 
God. In his 7nysteries, man is the image of God, not less thar 
in his dominion, and in the original moral image which he bore 
A large field is still open on which we can make but a passing 
remark — we mean the analogy of the laws of Christianity to those 
suggested by the constitution and course of nature. If our re- 
marks have been correct, then it is fair to expect that religion 
would reveal such a set of law^s as should be in accordance with 
the course of nature — that is, such as the actual order of events 
should shov7 to be conducive to the true interest and welfare of 
man. We think it could be shown that the actual process of 
things, has conducted mankind, after the shedding of much blood, 
and after many toils of statesmen and sages, to just the set of 
rules which are found for hmiian conduct in the Old and New 
Testaments. And it would be no uninteresting speculation to 
inquire into the changes in opinions and laws suggested by the 
history of events among nations — to see how one set of enact- 
ments struck out by the toils of some philosopher, and applied by 
some moralist or statesman, were persevered in until set aside 
by some opposing event in the government of God, and exchanged 
for a better system, for one more in accordance with the course 
of nature — until the revolutions of centuries, have brought men 
to the very laws of the scriptures, and the profoundest wisdom 
has been ascertained to be, to sit at the feet of Jesus of Nazareth 
and receive the law from his lips. We might remark on the law 
of theft in Lacedasmon ; on the views in relation to rapine and 
war; on the seclusion from the world which guided the Essene 
of Judea, and the monk of the early and middle ages ; on the 
indulgence of passion, recommended by the Epicureans ; on the 
annihilation of sensibility, the secret of happiness, among the 
Stoics ; on the law of universal selfishness, the panacea of all 
human ills recommended by infidelity ; and on the laws of 
honour that have guided so many men to fields of disgrace and 
blood, and filled so many dwellings with weeping. In all the 
different codes, we think we could show that the course of nature 
has ultimately driven men from one set of laws to another, from 
one experiment to another, until every scheme terminated in its 
abandonment, or in shaping itself to the peculiar laws of the 
Bible. But on this point, which is capable of very ample illus- 
tration, we can do no more than simply point out the principle^ 
in the words of a distinguished writer of our own country.^' We 
yiake one extract from a sermon of high originality of thought. 
* President Way land. 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



power of argument, and beauty of diction, entitled " The certain 
triumph of the Redeemer." 

The laws of matter are few and comparatively simple, but 
those relations are multiplied even to infinity. The law of gra- 
vitation maybe easily explained to an ordinary man, or even to 
an intelligent child. But who can trace one half of its relations 
to things solid and fluid, things animate and inanimate, the very 
form of society itself, to this system, other systems, in fine, to 
the mighty masses of the material universe ? The mind delights 
to carry out such a principle to its ramified illustrations, and 
hence it cherishes as its peculiar treasure, a knowledge of the 
principles themselves. Thus was it that the discovery of such 
a law gave the name of Newton to immortality, reduced to har- 
mony the once apparently discordant movements of our planetary 
system, taught us to predict the events of coming ages, and to 
explain what was before hidden from. the foundation of the world. 

" Novv^ he who will ta,ke the trouble to examine, will perceive 
in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a system of ultimate truths in 
morals in a very striking manner analogous to these elementary 
laws in physics. In themselves they are few, simple, and 
easily understood. Their relations, however, as in the other 
case, are infinite. The moral principle by which you can easily 
teach your child to regulate her conduct in the nursery, will fur- 
nish matter for the contemplation of statesmen and sages. It 
is the only principle on which the decisions of cabinets and 
courts can be founded, and is, of itself, suflficient to guide the 
diplomatist through all the mazes of the most intricate negocia- 
tion. Let any one who pleases make the experiment for him- 
self. Let him take one of the rules of human conduct which the 
gospel prescribes, and, having obtained a clear conception of it, 
iust as it is revealed, let him carry it out in its unshrinking 
application to the doings and dealings of men. At first, if he be 
not accustomed to generalizations of this sort, he will find much 
that will stagger him, and perhaps he will be led hastily to 
decide that the ethics of the Bible were never intended for prac- 
tice. But let him look a little longer, and meditate a little more 
intensely, and expand his views a little more widely, or become, 
either by experience or by years; a little older, and he will more and 
more wonder at the profoundness of wisdom, and the universality 
of application of the principles of the gospel. With the most 
expanded views of society, he can go nowhere where the Bible 
has not been before him. With the most penetrating sagacity 
he can make no discovery which the Bible has not long ago pro- 
mulgated. He will find neither application which the Bible did 
not foresee, nor exception against which it has not guarded. He 
will at last sink down in humble adoration of the wisdom of 
Jesus of Nazareth, convinced that he is the wisest man, as well 
as the profoundest philosopher, who yields himself up in meek- 
ness and simplicity of spirit to the teachings of the Saviour. 
Hence, there is the same sort of reason to believe that the pre- 
cepts of the Bible will be read, and studied, and obeyed, as there 



INTKODUCTORY ESSAY. 



ivii 



is to believe that the system of Newton will finally prevail, and 
eventually banish from the languages of men the astronomical 
dreams of Yishnu and Pandama." 

We now take our leave of the Analogy of Butler. We have 
endeavoured to state the nature of the argument on which it 
rests. We would say, in conclusion, that it is one of easy and 
universal application. We know of no argument that is so 
potent to still the voice of unbelief in the heart- -to silence every 
objection to all the doctrines of Christianity — or to subdue the 
soul, to an humble, reverential belief, that the God of creation is 
the God of redemption; and that he Vvho clothes the sunbeam 
with light, and the flower with its beauty, is the same all-present 
being, that goes forth to the grander vrork of delivering the soul 
from sin. As God will continue the process of his government, 
as he will make the genial shower to rise and fertilize the earth, 
as he w^ill clothe the hills and vales with verdure and beauty, de- 
spite of all the blasphemies of men ; as he v.all cause new flowers 
to spring forth, however many the foot of hard-hearted man may 
crush, and as he will cause the glory of the material system to roll 
on from age to age, in spite of all the opposition and malice of 
devils and of men, so,. we believe, he will also cause this more glo- 
rious system to ride triumphantly through the earth, and to shed its 
blessings on all the nations of the v/orld. Man can triumph over 
neither. They are based on the solid rock. The plans of men 
reach them not. Parallel systems of providence and redemption, 
liable to the same objections, and presenting the same beauties, 
testify that they have come from the same God, and are tending 
to the same high developement. 

We are of the number of those who do not shrink from avow- 
ing the opinion that the system of Christianity, as it has been 
held in the world, is capable of progressive improvements in the 
mode of its exhibition. This system, in the mind of the Son of 
God, was complete, and was so given to mankind. But we think 
that the world has not yet availed itself fully of the scheme. 
No earthly being ever yet so well understood the laws of the 
mind, as the Son of God ; and the system, as held hy him, Vv'as 
adapted to the true nature of created spirits, and to the regular 
course of things. But Christianity has often been attached to 
schemes of mental and moral philosophy as remote from the true 
one as "from the centre thrice to the utmost pole." Now, the 
improvement which we anticipate is, that men will consent to 
lay aside their systems of mentcJ science ; and with them much 
also of the technicalities of their theology — and suffer religion to 
speak in the words expressive of what Locke calls " large round- 
about sense," that they will be willing to inquire first what phi- 
losophy religion teaches, and then ask, if they choose, whether 
that philosophy is to be found in the schools. Could all the 
obstructions in the way of correct mental philosophy and natural 
science, be at once removed, we have no doubt that the Christian 
system would be seen to fall at once into the scheme of material 
and mental things Now this is the kind of improvement which 



Iviii 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



we expect will take pxace in theology. An analogy could never 
be established between theology, as it has been held, and the 
common course of events. Religion, as it has been often pre- 
sented, has been unlike all other things — so cold, distant, unliving, 
and formal, that we wonder not that men, who have had tolera- 
bly correct notions of the laws of the mind and of facts, should 
have shrunk from it; nor do we wonder that the preaching of 
no small number of ministers should have been fitted to make 
men Arminians, Socinians, or deists. 

AVe have sat down in pensive grief, when we heard from the 
lips of tyros in divinity, (as the first message which they bring 
us,) solemn and unmeasured denunciations of reason in matters 
of religion. We have asked ourselves whence the herald has 
derived his commission to commence an assault on what has 
been implanted in the bosom of man by the hand of the Al- 
mighty? Has the book which he holds in his hands told him to 
titter unfeeling and proscriptive maledictions on all just views 
of mental operations? Has God commissioned him to summon 
the world to a rejection of all the lessons taught by the investi- 
gations of the mind ; the decisions of conscience, and the course 
of events ? Is the God who has hitherto been thought to be the 
God of creation and providence, coming forth, in the old age and 
decrepitude of the world, to declare that the fundamental princi- 
ples of civil society, the judicial inflictions of his hand, the les- 
sons taught us in parental and filial intercourse, and in the rea- 
sonings of sober men with the eye upturned to heaven, have all 
been delusive; and that the new revelation is to set at defiance 
all that has been ascertained to be law, and all that the world has 
supposed to be just maxims in morals ? We marvel not that 
thinking men shrink from such sweeping denunciations. Nor 
do we wonder that the ministry is often despised, the sanctuary 
forsaken, and the day-dreams of any errorist adopted, who pro' 
fesses to give them proper place to the inferences drawn from 
the government of God. 

It is a maxim, we think, which should rule in the hearts of 
Christian men, and 

"Most of all in man that ministers, 
And serves the altar," 

that the world is to be convinced that Christians are not of neces* 
sity fools. And in doing this, we care not how much of sound 
reason, and true philosophy, and the analogies of nature, are 
brought into the sacred desk. The truth is, that religion sets up 
its jurisdiction over all the operations of the mind. And the 
truth is, also, that those who have done most to vilify and abuse 
the use of reason, have been the very men who have incorporated 
the most of false philosophy into their own systems of divinity. 
It is not to be concealed, that the most ardent desire of the ene- 
mies of religion is that its ministers and friends, should deal out 
fierce denunciations against reason^ and set up the system of 
Christianity as something holding in fixed defiance all the disco* 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



lix 



veries of knowledge and all the schemes of philosophy. More 
than half the work of atheism is done, if the world can be per- 
suaded that Christianity contemplates the surrender of the 
deductions of reason and the course of the world into the hands 
of infidel philosophers ; nor do we know a more successful arti- 
fice of the enemy of man than the schemes which have beep 
devised to effect such a disjunction, and to set up the Christian 
plan as something that stands in irreconcilable opposition to the 
course of nature, and the just process of thought. 

But, if the view which we have taken of this matter is correct, 
then all the w^orks of God, far as the eye can reach, and far on 
beyond, are in strict accordance with the Christian scheme. 
One set of laws rules the whole ; one set of principles reigns 
every where ; one grand system of administration is going for- 
ward. Apparent differences between the Christian scheme and 
the course of events are daily becoming rarer, and soon the 
whole will be seen to harmonize. The laws of mental action 
are becoming better understood : and are found to coincide more 
and more wilh the plain, unperverted declarations of the Bible. 
The laws of nations are growing more mild, tender, bloodless, 
and forbearing. The great principles of morals are laying aside 
the ferocity of the darker ages, disrobing themselves of the prin- 
ciples of the Goth and the Vandal, and returning more and more 
to the simplicity of primeval life — to the principles of Abraham, 
" that beauteous model of an eastern prince, of David the war- 
rior poet, of Daniel the far-sighted premier, of Paul the mild yet 
indomitable apostle, and of Jesus the meek Son of God." 

We anticipate that the order of events, and the deductions of 
reason, and the decisions of the gospel, will yet be found com- 
pletely to tally : so that Christianity shall come armed with the 
double poicer of having been sustained by miracles when first 
promulgated and when appearing improbable, and of falling in 
at last with all the proper feelings and just views of the world. 
As one evidence that the world is hasting to such a juncture we 
remark that the views entertained of moral character have under- 
gone already a transformation. "What mother would now 
train her sons after the example of Achilles, and Hector, and 
Agamemnon, and Ulysses?'' Other models, more like the Son 
of God, are placed before the infant mind. Society, in its vast 
revolutions, has brought itself into accordance, in this respect, 
with the IS'ew Testament. And we cannot but doubt that, 
though the affairs of the church and the vrorld may yet flow on 
in somew^hat distinct channels, yet they will finally sink into 
complete and perfect harmony; like two streams rising in dis- 
tant hills, and rendering fertile different vales, yet at last flowing 
into the bosom of the same placid and beautiful ocean. Men 
will go on to make experiments in geology, and chymistry, and 
philosophy, in order to oppose the Bible, till scheme after scheme 
shall be abandoned. They will frame theories of mental science 
until they arrive at the scheme of the New Testament. They 
will devise modes of alleviating misery, until they fall on the 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



very plan suggested more than two thousand years oefore them. 
And they will form and abandon codes of morals, until they shall 
come at last in their international and private affairs, to the 
moral masiins of the New Testament — and the world shall 
arrive at the conclusion that the highest wisdom is to set down 
like children at the feet of the Son of God. 

And we may perhaps be permitted here to suggest that Chris- 
tianity contains a provision for a peiyetuity of prcof that it is 
from God. We think it is idle to doubt that the evidence from 
miracles is more feeble noio than it was when the proofs of the 
resurrection of Jesus were poured with such resistless might cn 
the Roman empire. We mean that a missionary now, with all 
the zeal of martyrdom, has not with him the resistlessness of 
evidence for an ancient, which the apostles had for a contempo- 
raneous fact. It is more difficult for us to prove the existence 
of Alexander of Macedon than it could have been for Tacitus or 
Cicero. But we ask why miracles were necessary at all ? It 
was simply because the analogy of the new scheme to the course 
of nature v/as not obvious and commanding. There appeared to 
be an irreconcilable difference. Opinions, practices, systems, 
not fully tried and abandoned, opposed it. It was necessary to 
leat doum their opposition by some signal display of infinite 
power. It was done. And not a system stood before the mira 
culous scheme. But as these schemes give way — as they are 
found to be useless and are abandoned — as society converges 
more and more to the simplicity in the New Testament, and as 
therefore religion commends itself to the understandings of men, 
and falls in with the true analogies of things, there is provision for 
the increasing feebleness of the evidence from miracles — and in 
other ages all the evidence that shall be needed of its truth, may 
be the simple paralleUsm between this and all the works and 
plan of God. If the comparison may not seem far drawn, the 
strength of the evidence arising from the junction of the system 
of nature and of grace, may be illustrated by the intense heat of 
the Compound blow-pipe — the blazing and resistless energy pro- 
duced by the proper union of two independent elements, bearing 
on a single point. 

And here we conclude by saying that the men who promul- 
gated this system were Galilean peasants and fishermen. They 
had indubitably, little learning. They were strangers to the doc- 
trines of the schools, to ancient and modern science, to the works 
> of nature and of art. No infidel can prove that they knew more 
than the science necessary for the skilful management of a fish- 
ing boat, or the collection' of taxes. And yet they have devised 
the only scheme which turns out to be in accordance with the 
course of nature ; a scheme which has survived the extinction 
of mo«t others prevalent in their day, a system in advance still,— 
no one can tell how much, — even of our own age. Now it is a 
well-known fact that, in the progress of discovery hitherto, no 
man has gone much in advance of his Qvm generation. Society 
and science work themselves into a state^for the discoveries 



INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



Ixi 



whicn actually take place, and hence it happens that, abcut the 
same time, the same invention is often made on both sides of 
the globe. A controversy still exists respecting the discovery of 
the art of printing, and gunpowder, the application of steam, the 
invention of the quadrant, and many of the improvements in 
chymistry. We ask then, how it has happened that these Gali- 
leans stepped over all the science of their own age, established a 
system in strict accordance with the course of nature, disclosed 
elementary principles of morals entirely unknown to the philo- 
sophy of that age, and arrived at, in the history of man, only by 
•/)ng and painful experiments of many thousand years ? Why, 
let the sceptic tell us, has not science struck out principle after 
principle, that could long since have been organized into a sys- 
tem which should accord with the constitution and course of 
nature ? To our mxinds, the greatest of all miracles would be, 
that unaided and uninspired fishermen should have projected 
such a scheme of Christianity. 

Revealed religion, then, is in accordance with the course of 
nature. To reason against or reject it, on the principles com- 
monly adopted by infidels, is to call in question the whole system 
of things around us. Xor will it answer any valuable purpose 
to laugh or mock at it. " There is argument neither in drollery 
nor in jibe." If, in spite of this striking accordance with the 
course of nature, it can be proved false, let the evidence be fairly 
brought forward. Let its miracles be set aside. Let its prO' 
phecies be shown not to have been uttered. And then let it be 
shown how it is that such a system has originated from such a 
source; a system which has bowed the intellects of such men 
as Eacon and Locke and Boyle and Hale and Boerhaave, ana 
Newton and Edwards and Dwight. But if the demonstration 
cannot be made out, — if a single doubt remains, it will not do to 
deride this religion. It will no more do to meet the announce- 
ment of hell with a jeer, than to stand and mock at convulsions, 
fevers, and groans : — nor should men laugh at the judgment, any 
more than at the still tread of the pestilence, or the heavings of 
the earthquake ; — nor will it be at all more the dictate of wis- 
dom to contemn the provisions of redemption than to mock the 
pitying eye of a father, or to meet with contempt the pensive 
sigh of a mother over our sufierings, or to jeer at the physician 
Tvhc comes reverently, if it may be, to put back from us the 
heavy-pressing hand of God. 



6 



THE LIFE 

OF 

DR BUTLER. 



Dr Joseph ButleRj a prelate of the most distinguished 
character and abilities, was born at Wantage, in Berk- 
shire, in the j-ear 1692. His father Mr. Thomas Butler, 
who was a substantial and reputable shopkeeper in that 
town, observing in his son Joseph^ an excellent genius and in- 
clination for learning, determined to educate him for the min- 
istry, among the Protestant dissenters of the presbyterian 
denomination. For this purpose, after he had gone through 
a proper course of grammatical literature, at the free gram- 
mar school of his native place, under the care of the Rev. 
Mr Phihp Barton, a clergyman of the Church of England, 
he was sent to a dissenting academy, :hen kept at Glouces- 
ter, but which was soon afterwards removed to Tewksbury. 
The principal tutor of this academy was Mr Jones, a nran 
of imcommon abilities and knowledge, who had the honor 
of training up several scholars, who became of great emi- 
nence, both in the established church and among the dissen- 
ters. At Tukesbury, Mr Butler made an extraordinary 
progress in the stud}^ of divdnity ; of which he gave a re- 
markable proof, in the letters addressed by him while he 
resided at Tukesbury, to Dr Samuel Clarke, lajing before 
him the doubts that had arisen in his mind, concerning the 
conclusiveness of some arguments in the Doctor's demon- 
stration of the being and attributes of God. The first of 
these letters was dated the 4th November, 1713 ; and the 
sagacity and depth of thought displayed in it, immediately 
excited Dr Clark's particular notice. This condescension 



♦ He was the youngest of eight children. 



Ixiv 



THE LIFE OP 



encouraged Mr Butler to address the Doctor again upon 
the same subject, which likewise was answered by him * 
and the correspondence being carried on in three other let- 
ters, the whole was annexed to the celebrated treatise before 
mentioned, and the collection has been retained in all the 
subsequent editions of that work. The management of 
this correspondence w^as intrusted by Mr Butler to his friend 
and fellovv pupil, Mr Seeker, who, in order to conceal the 
affair, undertook to convey the letters to the post-office at 
CTloucester, and to bring back Dr Clark's answers. When 
Mr Butler's name was discovered to the doctor, the candor, 
modest}', and good sense, with which he had written, imme- 
diately procured him the friendship of that eminent and ex- 
cellent man. Our young student w^as not, however, during 
his continuance at Tukesbury, solely employed in metaphy- 
sical speculations and inquiries. Another subject of his 
serious consideration was, the propriety of his becoming a 
dissenting minister. Accordingly, he entered into an ex- 
amination of the principles of non-conformity ; the result of 
which was, such a dissatisfaction with them, as determined 
him to conform to the established church. This intention 
>vas, at first, disagreeable to his father, who endeavored to 
divert him from his purpose ; and, with that view, called in 
the assistance of some eminent presbyterian divines ; but 
finding his son's resolution to be fixed, he at length sufiTered 
him to be removed to Oxford, where he was admitted a com- 
moner of Oriel college, on the 17th March, 1714. And 
what time he took orders doth not appear, nor Vv ho the bishop 
was by whom he was ordained ; but it is certain that ho 
entered into the church soon after his admission at Oxford, if 
it be true, as is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr 
Edward Talbot in the divine service, at his living of Hen- 
dred, near Wantage With this gentleman, w^ho was the 
second son of Dr William Talbot, successively bishop of 
Oxford, Salisbmy, and Durham, Mr Butler formed an inti- 
mate friendship at Oriel college ; which friendship laid the 
foundation of all his subsequent preferments, and procured 
for him a very honorable station, when he was only twentj''- 
six years of age. For it was in 1718 that, at the recom 
mendation of Mr Talbot, in conjunction with that of Dr 
Clarke, he was appointed by Sir Joseph Jekyll to be preach- 
er at the Rolls. This was three years before he had taken 
any degree at the University, where he did not go out bache- 
'or of law till the 10th June, 1721, which, however, was as 



DR Bi:iL£R. 



ixv 



soon as that degree could suitablj' be conferred on L'rr. Mr 
Butler continued at the Rolls till 1726 : in the beginning of 
which 3'ear he published, in one volume octavo, Fifteen 
Sermons preached at that Chapel."' In the meanwhile, bj 
the patronage of Dr Talbot, bishop of Durham, to whose 
notice he had been recommended (together svith Mr Ben- 
son and Mr Seeker) bv ]Mr Edward Talbot, on his death 
bed. our author had been presented first lo the rectoiw of 
Haughton, near Darlington, and aftervrards to that of Stan- 
hope, in the same diocese. The benelice of Haughton, 
was given to him in 1722, and that of Stanhope in 1725. 
At Haughton there was a necessity for rebuilding a great 
part of the parsonage house, and Mr Butler had neither 
money nor talents for that work. Mr Seeker, therefore, 
who had alwaj's the interest of his friends at heart, and ac- 
quired a very considerable influence with Bishop Talbot, 
persuaded that prelate to give Mr Butler, in exchange for 
Haughton, the rectory of Stanhope, which was not only 
fi'ee ft'om anj' such incumbrance, but was likewise of much 
superior value, being indeed one of the richest parsonages 
in England. Wlr^lst our author continued preacher at the 
Rolls-Chapel, he divided his time between his dmy in town 
and country ; but when he quitted the Rolls, he resided, 
during seven years, w^holly at Stanhope, in the conscious 
discharge of every obligation appertaining to a good parish 
priest. This retirement, however, was too solitary for his 
disposition, vrhich had in it a natural cast of gloominess. 
And though his recluse hours were by no means lost, either 
to private improvement or public utiht}-, yet he felt at times, 
very painfully, the want of that select society of fiiends to 
which he had been accustomed, and which could insphe him 
with the greatest cheerfulness. Mr Seeker, therefore, who 
knew this, was extremely anxious to draw him out mto a 
more active and conspicuous scene, and omitted no opportu- 
nity of expressmg this desire to such as he thought capable 
of promoting it. Having himself been appointed king's 
chaplain, in 1732, he took occasion, in a conversation which 
he had the honor of holding wiih Queen Caroline, to men-> 
tion to her his friend Mr Butler. The queen said she 
thought he had been dead. Mr Seeker assured her he was 
not. Yet her Majesty afterwards asked Archbishop Black- 
burn if he was not dead ; his answer was, " No, madam ; 
but he is bmied.'' Mr Seeker continuing his purpose of 
endeavourins: to bring his friend out of his retirement, found 

6* 



Ixvi 



THE LIFE OP 



means, upon Mr Charles Talbot's being made lord chansel 
lor, to have Mr Butler recommended to him for his chaplain. 

His lordship accepted, and sent for him : and this promotion 
calling him to town, he took Oxford in his way, and was ad 
mitted there to the degree of doctor of law, on the 8th 
December, 1733. The lord chancellor, who gave liim kIso 
a prebend in the church of Rochester, had consented that 
he should reside at his parish of Stanhope one half of the 
year. 

Dr Butler being thus brought back into the world, his 
merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular no- 
tice, and paved the way for his rising to those high dignities 
which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was appointed 
clerk of the closet to queen Caroline ; and in the same yeem, 
he presented to her majesty a copy of his excellent treatise, 
entitled, " The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, 
to the Constitution and Course of Nature." His attendance 
upon his royal mistress, by her especial command, w^as from 
seven to nine in the evening every day ; and though this 
particular relation to that excellent and learned queen was 
soon determined by her death in 1737, yet he had been so 
effectually recommended b}^ her, as well as by the late Lord 
Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's favor, that in the next 
year he was raised to the highest order of the church, by a 
nomination to the bishopric of Bristol ; to which see he was 
consecrated on the Third December, 1738. King George 
II. not being satisfied with this proof of his regard to Dr 
Butler, promoted him, in 1740, to the deanery of St Paul's, 
London ; into which he was installed on the 24th May in 
that year. Finding the demands of this dignity to be in- 
compatible with his parish duty at Stanhope, he immediate- 
ly resigned that rich benefice. Besides our prelate's unre- 
mitted attention to his peculiar obligations, he was called 
upon to preach several discourses on public occasions, which 
were afterwards separately printed, and have since been an- 
nexed to the latter editions of the sermons at the Rolls- 
Jhapel. In 1746, upon the death of Dr Egerton, bishop 
of Hereford, Dr Butler was made clerk of the closet to the 
King ; and on the 16th October, 1750, he received another 
distinguished mark of his Majesty's favor, by being transla- 
ted to the see of Durham. This was on the 16th of Octo- 
ber in that year, upon the decease of Dr Edward Chandler. 
Our prelate being thus appointed to preside over a diocese 
with which he had long been connected, delivered his first, 



DR BUTLER. 



Ixvii 



and indeed his last charge to his clergj', at his piimarj visi 
tation in 1751. The principal object of it was, * External 
Religion.' The bishop having observed, with deep concern 
the great and growing neglect of serious piety in the king- 
dom, insisted strongly on the usefulness of outward forms 
and institutions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion 
and duty in the minds of men. In doing this, he was 
thought by several persons to speak too favourably of Pa* 
gan and Popish ceremonies, and to countenance in a certain 
degree, the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension 
an able and spirited writer, who was understood to be a 
clergyman of the Church of England, published in 1752, a 
pamphlet, entitled, ' A Serious Inquiry into the Use and 
Importance of External Religion ; occasioned by some pas- 
sages in the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Durham's 
Charge to the Clergy of that Diocese ; — Plumbly addressed 
to his Lordship.' Many persons, however, and we believe the 
greater part of the Clergy of the diocese, did not think our 
prelate's Charge so exceptionable as it appeared to this au 
thor. The Charge, being printed at Durham, and having 
never been annexed to any of Dr Butler's other works, is 
now become extremely scarce ; and it is observable, that it 
is the only one of his publications which ever produced him 
a direct literary antagonist.* 

By this promotion, our worthy bishop was furnished with 
ample means of exerting the virtue of charity ; a virtue 
which eminently abounded in him, and the exercise of 
which was his highest delight. But this gratification he 
did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time seated in 
his new bishopric, when his health began visibly to decline ; 
and having been complimented, during his indisposition, up- 
on account of his great resignation to the divine will, he is 
said to have expressed some regret that he should be taken 
from the present world so soon after he had been rendered 
capable of becoming much more useful in it. In his last 
illness he was carried to Bristol, to try the waters of that 
place ; but these proving inefTectual, he removed to Bath, 
where, being past recovery, he died on the 16th of Jiuie, 
1752. His corpse was conveyed to Bristol, and interred in 
the cathedral there, where a monument, w\\h an inscription, 
is erected to his memory. 

On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need 

* This Charge, with all the rest of Bishop Butler's writings, is includea 
n the present edition of hia works. 



Ixviii 



THE LIFE OF DR. BUTLEK. 



not enlarge ; for liis profound knowledge, and the prodigious 
strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his incompara- 
ble writing. His piety was of the most serious and fervent, 
and, perhaps somewhat . of the ascetic kind. His benevo- 
lence was warm, generous, and diifusive. Whilst he was 
bishop of Bristol he expended, in repairing and improving the 
episcopal palace, four thousand pounds, w^hich is said to 
have been more than the whole revenues of bishopric 
amounted to, during his continuance in that see. Besides his 
private benefactions, he was a contributor to the infirmary at 
Bristol, and a subscriber to three of the hospitals at London. 
He was likewise a principal promoter, though not the first 
founder of the infirmary at New^castle, in Northumberland. In 
supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and pow- 
erful diocese of Dm'ham, he was desirous of imitating the 
spirit of his patron, Bishop Talbot. In this spirit he set 
apart three days every week for the reception and entertain- 
ment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor were 
even the clergy who had the poorest benifices neglected by 
him. He not only occasionally invited them to dine with 
him, but condescended to visit them at their respective pa.r- 
ishes. By his will he left five hundred pounds to the Socie- 
ty for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts and some 
legacies to his friends and domestics. His executor and 
residuary legatee was his chaplain, the Rev. Dr Nathaniel 
Forster, a divine of distinguished Uterature. Bishop Butler 
was never married. Soon after his decease, the following 
lines, by way of epitaph, were written concerning him ; and 
were printed first, if we recollect aright, in the London Ma* 
gazine. 

Beneath this marble, Butler lies entombed, 
Who, with a soul enflamed by love divine, 

His life in presence of his God consumed, 
Like the bright lamp? before the holy shrine. 

His aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught, 
His eloquence was like a chain of gold, 
That the wild passions of mankind controlled ; 

Merit, wherever to be found, he sought. 

Desire of transient riches he had none ; 

These he, with bounteous hand, did well dispense j 
Bent to fulfil the ends of Providence ; 

His heart still fixed on an immortal crovm ; 
His heart a mirror was, of purest kind, 
Where the bright image of his Maker shined ; 

Rej3ecting faithful to tne throne above, 

The arradiant glories of the Mystic Dove. 



PREFACE 

BY 

THE EDITOR. 



* When I consider how light a matter very often subjects the best * estab- 

* lished characters to the suspicions of posterity, posterity often as malig- 
*nant to virtue as the age that saw it was envious of its glory ; and how 
'ready a remote age is To catch at a low revived slander, w^hich the times 
'that brought it forth saw despised and forgotten almost ia its birth, I 

* cannot but think it a matter that deser\'es attention.' — Letter to the 
Editor of the Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism, <|-c, by Bishop 
Warburton. See his works, vol. vii. p. 547. 

The Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham 
was printed and published in the year 1751. hj the learned 
prelate v/hose name it bears; and, together with the Ser 
mons and Analogy of the same writer, both too well known 
to need a more particular description, completes the collection 
of his works. It has long been considered as a matter of 
curiosity, on account of its scarceness ; and it is equally 
curious on other accounts — its subject, and the calumny 
to which it gave occasion of representing the Author as ad- 
dialed to superstition, as inclined to popery^ and as dying in the 
com'munion of ike church of Ro/ne. The improved edition of 
the Biographia Bfitannica^ published under the care of Dr 
Kippis, having unavoidably brought this calumnj^ again in- 
to notice, it may not be unseasonable to offer a few reflec- 
tions in this place, by way of obviating any impressions that 
may hence arise to the disadvantage of so great a character 
as that of the late Bishop Butler, referring those wdro de- 
sire a more particular account of iiis life, to the third volume 
of the same entertaining work, printed in 1784. Art. But- 
ler, (Joseph.)* 

* The account here alluded to, the reader will observe, is prefixed to 
the pres<^nt edition of Butler's works. 



PREFACE 



I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge is, to 
exhort his clergy to ' do their part towards reviving a prac- 
tical sense of religion amongst the people committed to theii 
care and, as one way of effecting this, to ' instruct them in 
the importance of external r ell gion^^ ox Xhe usefulness of out- 
ward observances in promoting inward piety. Now, from 
the compound nature of man, consisting of tw^o parts, the 
body and the mind, together with the influence which these 
are found to have on one another, it foUow^s, that the religious 
regard of such a creature ought to be so framed, as to be in 
some way properly accommodated to both. A religion which 
is purely spnitual, stripped of every thing that may effect 
the sense, and considered only as a divine philosophy of the 
mind, if it do not mount up into enthusiasm, as has frequent- 
ly been the case, often sinks, after a few short fervours, into 
indifference ; an abstracted invisible object, like that which 
natural rehgion offers, ceases to move or interest the heart ; 
and something further is wanting to bring it nearer, and ren- 
der it more pleasant to our view, than merely an intellectual 
contemplation. On the other hand, when, in order to reme- 
dy this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted forms and 
ritual injunctions, there is always danger lest men be tempt- 
ed to rest entirely on these and persuade themselves that \ 
painful attention to such observances will atone for the want 
of genuine piety and vhtue. Yet, surely, there is a way of 
steering safely between these two extremes ; of so consult- 
ing both the parts of our constitution, that the body and the 
mind may concur in rendering our religious services accepta- 
ble to God, and at the same time useful to ourselves. And 
what vvay can this be, but precisely that which is recom- 
mended in the Charge ; such a cultivation of outward as 
well as inward religion, that from both may result, what is 
the point chiefly to be laboured, and at all events to be se- 
cured, a correspondent temper and behaviour ; or, in other 
words, such an application of the forms of godliness, as may 
be subservient in promoting the power and spirit of it ? No 
man, who believes tlnj Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- 
tament, and understands what he beUeves, but must know, 
that external religion is as much enjoined, and constitutes as 
real a part of revelation, as that which is internal. The 
many ceremonies in use among the Jew^s, in consequence of 
a divine command ; the baptism of water, as an emblem of 
moral puritj- ; the eating and drinking of bread and wine, as 
symbols and representations of the body and blood of CLrisi 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxi 



required of Christipais, are proofs of this. On comparing 
these two parts of religion together, one, it is immediately 
seen, is of much greater importance than the other ; and, 
whenever they happen to interfere, is always to be preferred ; 
but does it follow from hence, that therefore that other is of 
little or no importance^ and in cases vrhere there is no com- 
petition, may eniii'ely be neglected ! Or rather, is not the 
legitimate conclusion directly the reverse, that nothing is to 
be looked upon as of little importance, which is of any use 
at all in preserving upon our minds a sense of the divine 
authority, which recalls to our rem.embrance the obligations 
we are under, and helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses 
it, ' in the fear of the Lord all the day long If, to adopt the 
instance mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a Church 
should remind a man of some sentiment of piety ; if, from 
the view of a material buildmg dedicated to the service of 
God, he should be led to regard himself, his own body, as a 
Hving ^ temple of the Holy Ghost,'| and therefore, no more 
than the other, to be profaned or desecrated b\' any thing 
that denleth or is impure ; could it be truly said of such a 
one that he was superstitious, or mistook the means of reli- 
gion for the end ? If to use another, and what has been 
thought a more obnoxious instance, taken from the Bishop's 
practice, a cross, erected in a place of public worship. J should 
cause us to reflect on him who died on a cross for our salva- 
tion, and on the necessity of our ' own dying to sin,'|| and 
of crucifying the flesh with its aflections and lusts ;§ would 
any worse consequences follow^ from such sentiments so ex- 
cited than if the same sentiments had been excited by the 
view of a picture, of the crucifixion suppose, such as is com- 
monly placed, and with this very design, in foreign churches, 
and indeed in many of our own ? Both the instances here 
adduced, it is very possible, may be far from being approved, 
even by those vrho are under the most sincere convictions 
of the importance of true religion ; and it is easy to con- 
ceive how open to scorn and censm'e they must be from oth- 
ers, W'ho think they have a talent for ridicule, and have ac- 
customed themselves to regard eJl pretensions to piet}' as hy- 
pocritical or superstitious. But ' Wisdom is justified of her 
children. 'IT Religion is what it is, * whether men will heitr, 
or whether they will forbear and whatever in the smallest 



* Prov. xxiii. 17. t 1 Cor. vi. 19 

t See note A, at the end of this Preface. 

« Rom. vi. 11. § Gal. v. 24 ^ Matt xL 19. Ezek. ii.. ^. 



ixxii 



PRiFACE 



degree promotes its interests, and assists us in performing its 
commands, wiietlier that assistance be derived from the me- 
dium of the body or the mind, ought to be esteemed of great 
weight, and deserving of our most serious attention. 

Ho vv ever, be the danger of superstition what it may, no 
one was more sensible of that danger, or more earnest in 
maintaining, that external acts of themselves are nothing, 
and that moral holiness, as distinguished from bodily observ- 
ances of every kind, is that which constitutes the essence of 
religion, than Bishop Butler. Not only the Charge itself, 
the whole intention of which is plainly nothing more than to 
enforce the necessity of practical religion, the reaUt}^ as well 
as form, is a demonstration of this, but man}-' passages be- 
sides to the same purpose, selected from his other writings. 
Take the two following as specimens. In Iris Analogy he 
observes thus : ' Though mankind have, in all ages, been 
greatly prone to place their rehgion in peculiar positive rites, 
by way of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts ; 
yet, without making any comparison at all between them, 
the nature of the thing abundantly shows all notions of that 
kind to be utterly subversive of true religion ; as they are, 
moreover, contrary to the v/hole general tenor of Scripture, 
and likewise to the most express particular declarations of 
it, that nothing can render us accepted of God without mor 
al virtue. '^^ And to the same purpose in his sermon preach 
cd before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, in 
Februarj', 1738-9. ' Indeed, amongst creatures naturally 
formed for religion, yet so much under the power of imagi- 
nation as men are, superstition is an evil which can never be 
out of sight. But even against this, true religion is a 
great security, and the only one. True religion takes up 
that place in the mind, which superstition would usurp, and 
so leaves httle room for it ; and likewise lays us under the 
strongest obligations to oppose it. On the contrary, the 
danger of superstition cannot but be increased by the preva- 
lence of irreligion ; and, by its general prevalence, the evil 
will be unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a re- 
ligion, Vv^ill, of course, take up with almost any superstition 
which is thrown in their way ; and, in process of time, amidst 
the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders of 
parties will certainly be able to serve themselves of that su- 
perstition, whatever it be, which is getting ground ; and will 

♦ Analogy, Part ii. Chap, I. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



iX'Xlii 



not fail to carry it to the utmost length their occasions re- 
quire. The general nature of the thin^ shows this ; and 
history and fact confirm it. It is therefore wonderful, those 
people who seem to think there is but one evil in life, that of 
superstition, should not see that atheism and profaneness must 
be the introduction of it.'* 

He, who can think and write in such a manner, can 
never be said to mistake the nature of real religion : And 
he, who, after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in as- 
serting of so discreet and learned a person, that he was addict- 
ed to superstition^ must himself be much a stranger both to 
truth and chanty. 

And here it may be worth our while to observe, thai the 
same excellent prelate, who by one set of men was suspect- 
ed of superstition^ on account of his charge, has by another, 
been represented as leaning to the opposite extreme of enthu 
stasntj on accoimt of his two discourses On the Love of God. 
But both opinions are equally without foundation. He was 
neither superstitious, nor an enthusiast; his mind was much 
too strong, and his habits of tliinking and reasoning much 
too strict and severe, to suffer him to descend to the weak- 
nesses of either character. His piety was at once fervent 
and rational. When impressed with a generous concern for 
the declining cause of religion, he laboured to revive its dy- 
ing interests ; nothing, he judged, would be more effectual 
to that end, among creatures so much engaged with bodily 
things, and so apt to be affected v/ith whatever strongly so- 
licits the senses, as men are, than a rehgion of such a frame 
as should in its exercise require the joint exertions of the 
body and the mind. On the other hand, when penetrated 
with the dignity and importance of ' the first and great com- 
mandment,'! love to God, he set himself to inquire, what 
those movements of the heart are, which are due to Him 
the Author and Cause of all things ; he found, in the cool- 
est way of consideration, that God is the natural object of 
the same affections of gratitude, reverence, fear, desire 
of approbation, trust and independence, the same affec- 
tions in kindj though doubtless in a very disproportionate de- 
greSj which any one would feel from contemplating a perfect 
character in a creature, in which goodness, with \visdom i nd 
power, are supposed to be the predominant qualities, with 
die further circumstance, that this creature was also his gov- 



♦ Serm. xvi. 



1 Mm. xxii. ^ 



Ixxiv 



PREFATE 



emor and friend. The subject is manifestly a real one; there 
is nothing in it fanciful or unreasonable : This way of being 
affected towards God is piety, in the strictest sense. This 
is religion, considered as a habit of mind ; a religion, suited 
to the nature and condition of man.* 

II. From superstition io popery the transition is easy : No 
wonder then, that in the progress of detraction, the simple 
imputation of the former of these, with which the attack on 
the character of our author was opened, should be followed 
by the more aggravated imputation of the latter. Nothing, 
I think, can fairly be gathered in support of such a sugges- 
tion from the Charge, in which popery is barely mentioned, 
and occasionally onty, and in a sentence or two ; yet even 
there, it should be remarked, the Bishop takes care to de- 
scribe the peculiar observances required by it, * some, as in 
themselves wrong and superstitious, and others of them as 
being made subservient to the purposes of superstition.^ 
With respect to his other writings, any one at all conversant 
with them needs not to be told, that the matters treated of. 
both in his sermons and his Analogy, did, none of them, di- 
rectly lead him to consider, and much less to combat, the 
opinions, whether relating to faith or worship, which are pe- 
culiar to the church of Rome. It might therefore have hap- 
pened, yet without any just conclusion arising from thence, 
of being himself inclined to favour those opinions, that he 
had never mentioned, so much as incidentally, the subject 
of popery at all. But fortunately for the reputation of the 
Bishop, and to the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, even 
this poor resource is wanting to support their malevolence. 
In his Sermon at St Bride's before the Lord Mayor in 1740, 
after having said that ' Our laws, and whole constitution, go 
more upon supposition of an equality amongst mankind, 
than the constitution and laws of other countries he goes 
on to observe, that ^ this plainly requires, that more particu- 
lar regard should be had to the education of the lower peo- 
ple here, than in places where ihey are born slaves of pow- 
or, and to be made slaves of superstition ;"\ meaning evidently 
m this place, by the general term superstition, the particular 
errors of the Romanists. This is something ; but we have 
a still plainer indication what his sentiments concerning po- 
pery really were, from another of his additional Serm.ons, I 
mean that before the House of Lords on June 11th, 1747. 



♦ See note B, at the end of this Preface. 



t Serm. xvii. 



BY THE EDITOK. 



Lxxv 



i,he anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. The pas- 
sage alluded to is as follows ; and my readers will not be dis- 
pleased that I give it them at length : ' The value of our re- 
ligious establishment ought to be very much heightened in 
our esteem, by considering what it is a security from ; I mean 
that great corruption of Christianity, popery, which is ever 
hard at work to bring us again under its yoke. Whoever 
will consider the popish claims, to the disposal of the whole 
earth as of divine right, to dispense with the most sacred en- 
gagements, the claims to supreme absolute authority in reli- 
gion ; in short, the general claim^s which the Canonists ex- 
press by the words, plenitude of power — whoever, I say, will 
consider popery as it is professed at Rome, may see, that it 
is manifest open usurpation of all human and divine author- 
ity. But even in those Roman catholic countries where 
these monstrous claims are not admitted, and the civil power 
does, in many respects, restrain the papal ; yet persecution 
is professed, as it is absolutely enjoined by what is acknowl- 
edged to be then* highest authority, a general counsel, so 
called, with the Pope at the head of it ; and is practised in 
all of them, I think, without exception, where it can be done 
sa.fely. Thus they go on to substitute force mstead of ar- 
gument ; and external profession made by force, instead of 
teasonable conviction. And, thus corruptions of the gross- 
est sort have been in vogue, for many generations, in many 
parts of Christendom and are so still, even where popery ob- 
tains in its least absurd form. And their antiquity and wide 
extent are insisted upon as proof of their truth ; a kind of 
proof, which at best can only be presumptive, but which lo- 
ses all its little v/eight, in proportion as the long and large 
prevalence of such corruptions have been obtained by force.'* 
In another part of the same Sermon, where he is again 
speaking of our ecclesiastical constitution, he reminds his 
audience that it is to be valued, ' not because it leaves us at 
liberty to have as little religion as we please, without being ac- 
countable to human judicatories ; but because it exhibits to our 
view, and enforces upon our consciences, genuine Christiani- 
ty, free from the superstitions with which it is defiled in other 
countries ;' which superstitions, he observes, ' naturally tend 
to abate its force.' The date of this Sermon should be here 
attended to. It was preached in June, 1747 ; that is, four 
years before the delivery and publication of the Charge 



♦ Semi. XX. 



Ixxvi 



PREFACE 



which was in the year 1751 ; and exactly five years before 
the author died, which was in June, 1752. We have then, 
in the passage now laid before the readers, a clear and une- 
quivocal proof, brought down to within a few years of Bish- 
op Butler's death, that popery was held by him ii^ the ut- 
most abhoiTence, and that he regarded it in no other light, 
than as the great corruption of Christianity^ and a manifest^ 
open usurpation of all human and divine authority. The argu- 
ment is decisive ; nor will any thing be of force to invahdate 
it, unless fi*om some after-act during the short remainder of 
the Bishop's life, besides that of delivering and printing his 
Charge, (which, after what I have said here, and in the 
Notes added to this Preface, and to the Charge, I must have 
leave to consider as affording no ewlences at all of liis in- 
clination to papistical doctrines or ceremonies) the contrary 
shall incontrovertibly appear. 

III. On such after-act, however, has been alleged, which 
would effectually demolish all that we have urged in be- 
half of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended, that he 
died in the communion of the Church of Ro7ne. Had a story 
of tliis sort been invented and propagated by papists, the 
wonder might have been less. 

Hoc Ithacus veliij ct magno mercentur Atridce. 

But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of 
this calumny, for such . we shall find it, originated from 
among ourselves. It is pretty remarkable, that a circum- 
stance so extraordinary should never have been divulged till 
the year 1767, fifteen years after the Bishop's decease. At 
that time Dr Thomas Seeker was archbishop of Canterbu- 
ry ; who, of all others, was the most lilcely to know the 
truth or falsehood of the fact asserted, ha\'ing been educated 
Vv'ith our Author in his early youth, and having lived in a 
constant habit of intimacy with him to the very time of his 
death. The good Archbishop was not silent on this occa- 
sion ; with a virtuous indignation he stood forth to protect 
the posthumous character of his friend ; and in a public 
newspaper, under the signature of Misopseudes^ called upon 
has accuser to support what he had advanced, by whatever 
proofs he could. No proofs, however, nor any thing like a 
proof, appeared in reply ; and every man of sense and can- 



♦ See note C, at the end of this Preface. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxvli 



dor at that time was perfectly convinced the assertion ^vas 
entirely groundless.* As a further confirmation of the rec- 
titude of this judgment, it may not be amiss to mention, 
there is yet in existence a strong ■presumj)tive argument at 
least in its favor, drawn from the testimony of those who at- 
tended our Author in the sickness of which he died. The 
last days of this excellent prelate were passed at Bath ; Dr 
Nathaniel Forster, his chaplain, being continually with him ; 
and for one day, and at the very end of his illness, Dr Mar- 
tin Benson also, the then Bishop of Gloucester, who short- 
ened his own life in his pious haste to visit his dying friend , 
Both these persons constantly wrote letters to Dr Seeker, 
then Bishop of Oxford, containing accounts of Bishob But- 
ler's declining health, and of the symptoms and progress of 
his disorder, which, as was conjectured, soon terminated his 
death. These letters, which are still preser\^d in the Lam- 
beth Library,* I have read ; and not the slenderest argu- 
ment can be collected from them, in justification of the ridi- 
culous slander w^e are here considering. If at this awful 
season the Bishop was not known to have expressed any 
opinion tending to show his dislike to popery, neither was he 
known to have said any thing, that could at all be construed 
in approhaiion of it ; and the natural presumption is, that 
whatever sentiments he had formerly entertained concerning 
that coiTupt system of religion, he continued to entertain 
thern to the last. The truth is^ neither the word nor the 
idea of popery seems once to have occured either to the 
Bishop himself, or to those who watched his parting mo- 
ments ; Their thoughts were otherwise engaged. His dis- 
order had reduced him to such debility, as to render him in- 
capable of speaking much or long on any subject ; the few 
bright intervals that occured were passed in a state of the 
utmost tranquillity and composure ; and in that composure 
he expired. ' Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright \ 
for the end of that man is peace. '| ' Let me die the death 
of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. 'J 

Out of pure respect for the \irtues of a man, whom I had 
never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing, but from 
whose writings I have received the greatest benefit and illu- 
mination, and wliich I have reason to be thankful to Provi- 
dence for having early thrown in my waj^ I have adventur- 
ed, in what I have now offered to the public, to step forth in 

♦ See note D, at the end of this Preface. 
T Psahn xxxvii. 37. I JN'umb. xxiii. 10. 

7# 



Ixxviii 



PREFACE 



His defence, and to vindicate his honest fame from the attacks 
of those, who, with the vain hope of bringing down superi 
or characters to their own level, are for ever at work in de- 
tracting from their just praise. For the literary reputation 
of Bishop Butler, it stands too high in the opinion of the 
world, to incur the danger of any diminution ; but this in 
truth, is the least of his excellencies. He was more than a 
good writer, he was a good man ; and what is an addition 
even to this eulogy, iie was a sincere Christian. His whole 
studj^ was directed to the knowledge and practice of sound 
morality and true religion ; these he adorned by his life, and 
has recommended to future ages in his writings ; in which, 
if my judgment be of any avail, he has done essential ser- 
vice to both, as much, perhaps, as any single person, since 
the extraordinary gifts of ' the word of wisdom and the word 
of knowledge^* have been withdrawn. 



In what follows I propose to give a short account of the 
Bishop^s moral and religious systems^ as these are collected 
from his works. 

1. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be 
gathered from the volume of his Sermons, and particularly 
from the three first, and from the preface to that volume. 

^ There is,' as our author with singular sagacity has ob- 
served, ' a much more exact correspondence between the 
natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of.'f 
The inward frame of man answers to his outward condition ; 
the several propensities, passions, and affections, implanted in 
our hearts by the Author of nature, are in a particular manner 
adapted to the circumstances of life in which he hath placed 
us. This general observation, properly pursued, leads to 
.several important conclusions. The original internal con- 
stitution of man, compared with his external condition, ena- 
bles us to discern what course of action and behaviour that 
constitution leads to, what is our duty respecting that con- 
dition, and furnishes us besides with the most powerful ar- 
guments to the practice of it. 

What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a 
question of fact ; to be determined, as other facts are, from 
experience, from our internal feelings and external senses 



♦ 1 Cor. xil 8. 



t Serm. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxix 



and from the testimony of others. Whether human nature, 
and the chcumstanccs m which it is placed, might not have 
been ordered otherwise, is foreign to our inquiry, and none 
of our concern. Our province is, taking both of these as 
they are, and viewing the connexion between them, from 
that connexion to discover, if we can, what course of action 
is fitted to that nature and those circumstances. From con- 
templating the bodily senses, and the organs or instruments 
adapted to them, we lea.rn that the eye was given to see> 
with, the ear to hear with. In hke manner, from consider- * 
ing our inward perceptions and the final causes of them, we 
collect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given to 
prevent the doing of things shameful ; compassion, to carry 
us to reheve others in distress ; anger, to resist sudden vio- 
lence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our inquiries in 
this way, it should at length appear, that the nature, the 
whole nature of man leads him to, and is fitted for, that par- 
ticular course of behaviour which we generally distinguish- 
ed by the name of \irtue, we are authorized to conclude, 
that virtue is the law we are born under, that it was so in- 
tended by the Author of our being ; and we are bound by 
the most intimate of all obligations, a regard to our own 
high interest and happiness, to conform to it in all situations 
and events. 

Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up 
of several parts ; and we can have no just idea of it as a 
system or constitution, unless we take into om' view 
the respects and relation which these parts have to each 
other. As the body is not one member, but many ; so 
our inward structure consists of various instincts, appetites, 
and propensions. Thus far there is no difference between 
human creatures and brutes. But besides these common 
passions and affections, there is another piinciple pecu- 
liar to iTiankind, that of conscience, moral sense, reflection, 
call it what j^ou please, by ■s\^hich they are enabled to review 
their whole conduct, to approve of some actions in them- 
selves, and to disapprove of others. That this principle will 
of course have some influence on our behaviour, at least at 
times, will hardly be disputed ; but the particular influence 
wnich it ought to have, the precise degree of power in the 
regulating of our internal fr-ame that is assigned it by Flim 
who placed it there, is a point of the utmost consequence in 
itself, and on the determination of which, the very hinge of 
our Author's Moral Sj'Stern turns. If the faculty here spo 



Ixxx 



PREFACE 



ken of be, indeedj what it is asserted to be, in nature and 
kind, superior to every other passion and affection ; if it be 
given, not merely that it may exert its force occasionally, oi 
as our present humour or fancy may dispose us, but that it 
may at all times exercise an uncontrollable authority and 
government over all the rest ; it will then follow, that, in or- 
der to complete the idea of human nature as a system., we 
must not only take in each particular bias, propension, in- 
stinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we must add, be- 
sides, the principle of conscience, together with the subjec- 
tion that is due to it from all the other appetites and passions ; 
just as the idea of a civil constitiuion is formed, not barely 
from enumerating the several members and ranks of which 
it is composed, but from these considered as acting in vari- 
ous degrees of subordination to each other, and all under 
the direction of the supreme authorit}^, whether that authori- 
ty, be vested in one person or more. 

The view here given of the internal constitution of man, 
and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeable to the con- 
ceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend the 
force of that expression, common to him and the ancient 
moralists, that virtue consists in following nature. The 
meanmg cannot be, that it consists in acting agreeably to 
that propensity of our nature which happens to be the stron- 
gest ; or which propels us towards certam objects without any 
regard to the methods by which they are to be obtained ; but 
the meaning must be, that virtue consists in the due regulation 
and subjection of all the other appetites and affections to the 
superior faculty of conscience ; from a conformity to which 
alone our actions are properly natural^ or coriespondent to 
the nature, to the whole nature, of such an agent as man. 
From hence too it appears, that the Author of our frame is 
by no means indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left us at 
liberty to act at random, as humour or appetite may prompt 
lis ; but that every man has the rule of right w^ithin him ; 
a rule attended in the very notion of it with authority, and 
such as has the force of a dn*ection and a command from 
Him who made us what we are, what course of behaviour 
is suited to our nature, and which he expects that w^e should 
follow. This moral faculty implies also a presentiment and 
apprehension, that the judgment which it passes on our ac- 
tions, considered as of good or ill desert, will hereafter be 
confirmed by the unemng judgment of God ; when virtue 
and happinessj^ vice and misery, whose ideas are now so 



BY THE EDITOR. 



kxxi 



closely connected, shall be indissolubly united, and the divine 
government be found to correspond in the most exact propor- 
tion to the nature he has given us. Lastly, this just preroga- 
tive or supremacy of conscience it is, which Mr Pope has 
described in his Universal Prayer^ though perhaps, he may 
have expressed it rather too strongly where he says, 

* What conscience dictates to be done 

Or warns me not to do, 
This' teach me more than hell to shun, 

That, more than heaven pursue.' 

The reader will observe, that this way of treating the 
subject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all inter- 
fere with that other way, adopted by Dr Samuel Clarke and 
others, which begins v/ith inquiring into the relations and 
fitness of things, but rather illustrates and confirms it. That 
there are essential diiFerences in the qualities of human ac- 
tions, established bynature,and that this natural dl^exexiCQ of 
things, prior to and independent of all loill, creates a natural 
fitness in the agent to act agreeably to it, seems as little to 
be denied, as that there is the moral difference before explain- 
ed, from which we approve and feel a pleasure in what is 
right, and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Stil!, how- 
ever, when we are endeavoring to establish either this mo- 
ral or that natural difference, it ought never to be forgotten, 
or rather it will require to be distinctly shown, that both of 
these, when traced up to their source, suppose an intelligent 
Author of nature, and moral ruler of the world ; who ori- 
ginally appointed these differences, and by such an appoint- 
ment has signified his loill that w^e should conform to them, 
as the only effectual method of securing our happiness on the 
whole under his government.* And of this consideration our 
prelate himself was not unmindful ; as may be collected 
from many expressions in different parts of his writings, 
and particularly from the following passages in his Xlth 
Serm-on. ' It may be allowed, v^^ithout any prejudice to the 
cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and 
misery are, of all our ideas, the nearest and most important 
to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought 
to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and 
proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there 
ever should be, any inconsistence between them.' And 



♦ See noteE, at the end of this Preface. 



Ixxxii 



PREFACE 



again, ^ Though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed, con- 
sist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as 
such ; yet, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither 
justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are con- 
vinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not con- 
trary to it.'* 

Besides the general system of morality opened above, our 
Author, in his volume of Sermons, has stated with accuracy 
the difference between self love and benevolence ; in oppo- 
sition to those who, on the one hand, make the whole of 
virtue to consist in benevolence, | and to those who, on the 
other, assert that every particular affection and action is re- 
solvable into self-love. In combating these opinions, he has 
shown, I think, unanswerably, that there are the same kind 
of indications in hunjan nature, that we were made to pro- 
mote the happiness of others, as that we were made to pro- 
mote our own ; that it is no just objection to this, that we 
have dispositions to do evil to others as well as good ; for we 
have also dispositions to do evil as well as good to ourselves^ 
to our own most important interests even in this life, for the 
sake of gratifying a present passion ; that the thing to be 
lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to their 
own real good, but that they have not enough ; that bene- 
volence is not more at variance with, or unfriendly to, self- 
love, than any other particular affection is ; and that by con- 
sulting the happiness of others a man is so far from lessen- 
ing his own, that the very endeavour to do so though he 
should fail in the accomplishment, is a source of the high- 
est satisfaction and peace of mind. J He has also, in pas- 
sing, animadverted on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who, 
in his book ' Of Human Nature,' has advanced, as discove- 
ries in moral science, that benevolence is only the love of 
power, and compassion the fear of future calamity to our- 
selves. And this our Author has done, not so much v/ith 
the design of exposing the false reasoning of Mr Hobbes, 
but because on so perverse an account of human nature he 
has raised a system, subversive of all justice and honesty. § 

II. The rehgious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly to 
be collected from the treatise, entitled, '• The Analogy of 

* Senn. xi. 

t See the 2d Dissertation ' On the Nature of Virtue.' • 

t See Serm. i. and xi. and the Preface to the Volume of Seimons. 

§ See the notes to Serm. i. and v. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxxiii 



Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and 
Course of nature.' 

' All things are double one against another, and God hath 
made nothing imperfect.'^ On this single observation of 
the Son of Snach, the whole fabric of our prelate's defence 
of religion, in his Analog}^, is raised. Instead of indulging 
in idle speculations, how the world might possibly have 
been better than it is ; or, forgetful of the difference betw^een 
hypothesis and fact, attempting to explain the divine econo-i^ 
my with respect to intelligent creatures, from joreconceived 
notions of his own : he first inquires what the constitution 
of nature, as made known to us in the w^ay of experiment, 
actually is ; and from this, now^ seen and acknowledged, he 
endeavours to form a judgment of that larger constitution, 
which religion discovers to us. If the dispensation of Pro- 
vidence w^e are now under, considered as inhabitants of this 
world, and having a temporal interest to secure in it, be 
found, on examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece 
w-ith that further dispensation, which relates to us as design- 
ed for another world, in wiiich w' e have an eternal interest, 
depending on our behaviour here ; if both may be traced up 
to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on ac- 
cording to the same plan of administration; the fair pre- 
sumption is, that both proceed from one and the same Au- 
thor. And if the principal parts objected to in this latter 
dispensation be similar to, and of the same kind with w^hat 
we certainly experience under the former ; the objections, 
being cleaii}^ inconclusive in one case, because contradicted 
by plain fact, must, in all reason, be allowed to be inconclu- 
sive also in the other. 

This vi-d.y of arguing from w^iat is acknowledged to w^hat 
is disputed, from things known to other things that resemble 
them, from that part of the divine estabhshment which is 
exposed to our view to that more important one w^hich lies * 
bej^ond it, is on all hands confessed to be just. By this me- 
thod Sir Isaac Nevv'ton has unfolded the system of nature ; 
by the same method Bishop Butler has explained the sys- 
tem of grace ; and thus, to use the w^ords of a writer, whom 
I quote with pleasure, ' has formed and concluded a happy 
alliance betvv^een faith and philosophy. '| 

And although the argument from analogy be allowed to 
be imperfect, and by no means sufficient to solve all diilicul- 

* Eccles. xlii. 24 

t Mr Mainwaring's Dissertation, prefixed to his Volume of Sermous. 



I XXX IV 



PREFACE 



ties respecting the government of God, and the designs of 
his providence with regard to mankind ; (a degree of knowl- 
edge, which we are not furnished with facuhies for attain- 
ing, at least in the present state ;) jet surely it is of impor- 
tance to learn from it, that the natural and moral world are 
intimately connected, and parts of one stupendous whole, or 
system ; and that the chief objections which are brought 
against religion, may be urged with equal force against the 
constitution and course of nature, where they are certainly 
false in fact. And this information we may derive from the 
work before us ; the proper design of which, it may be of 
use to observe, is not to prove the truth of religion, either 
natural or revealed, but to confirm that proof, already known, 
by considerations from analogy. 

After this account of the method of reasoning employed 
by our Author, let us now advert to his manner of appljdng 
it, first, to the subject of Natm'al Religion, and, secondl}^, to 
that of Revealed. 

1. The foundation of all our hopes and fears is a future 
life ; and with this the treatise begins. Neither the reason 
of the thing, nor the analogy of nature, according to Bishop 
Butler, give ground for imagining, that the unknown event, 
death, will be our destruction. The states in which we have 
formerly existed, in the womb and in infancy, are not more 
different from each other than from that of mature age in 
which we now exist ; therefore, that we shall continue to 
exist hereafter, in a state as different from the present as the 
present is fi*om those through which we have passed alrea- 
dy, is a presumption favored by the analogy of nature. All 
that we know from reason concerning death, is the effects it 
has upon animal bodies ; and the frequent instances among 
men, of the intellectual powers continuing in high health 
and vigour, at the very time when a mortal disease is on the 
point of puttmg an end to all the powers of sensation, induce 
us to hope that it may have no effect at all on the human soul, 
not even so much as to suspend the exercise of its faculties ; 
though if it have, the suspension of a power by no means im- 
pHes its extinction, as sleep or a swoon may convince us.* 

The probability of a future state once granted, an impor- 
tant question arises, How best to secure our interest in that 
stale 1 We find from what passes daily before us, that the 
constitution of nature admits of misery as well as happiness ; 



* Part L chap. 1. 



BY THE EDlTOiU 



Ixxxv 



that both of these are the consequences of our own actions, 
and these consequences we are enabled to foresee. There- 
fore, that our happiness or misery in a future world may de- 
pend on our own actions also, and that rewards or punish- 
ments hereafter may follow our good or ill behaviour here, is 
but an appointment of the same sort with what we expe- 
rience under the divine government, according to the regular 
course of nature.* 

This supposition is confirmed from another circumstance, 
that the natural government of God, under which we now 
live, is also moral ; in which rew^ards and punishments are 
the consequences of actions, considered as virtuous and 
%^cious. Not that every man is rewarded or punished here 
in exact proportion to his desert ; for the essential tendencies 
of virtue and vice, to produce happiness and the contrary, 
are often hindered from taking effect from accidental causes. 
However, there are plainly the rudiments and beginnings of 
a righteous administration to be discerned in the constitution 
of nature ; from whence we are led to expect, that these ac- 
cidental hindrances ^\ill one day be removed, and the rule of 
distributive justice obtain completely in a more perfect state. y 

The moral government of God, thus established, implies in 
the notion of it some sort of trial, or a moral possibility of act- 
ing wrong as well as right, in those who are the subjects of 
it. And the doctrine of religion, that the present life is in 
fact a state of probation foi* a future one, is rendered credible 
from its being analogous throughout to the general conduct 
of Providence towards us with respect to this world ; in 
which prudence is necessary to secure our temporal interest, 
just as we are taught that virtue is necessary to secure oui 
eternal interest : and both are trusted to ourselves. J 

But the present life is not merely a state of probation, im 
plying in it difficulties and danger, it is also a state of disci 
pline and improvement : and that, both in our temporal and 
religious capacity. Thus, childhood is a state of discipline 
for youth ; youth for manhood ; and that for old age. Strength 
of body, and maturity of understanding, are acquired by de- 
grees : and neither of them without continual exercise and 
attention on our part, not only in the beginning of life, but 
through the whole course of it. So, again, with respect to 
our religious concerns, tlie present world is fitted to be, and 



♦ Chap. 2 t Chap. 3. 



I Part i. chap. 4, 



Ixxxvi 



PREFACE 



to good men is an event, a state of discipline and improve- 
ment for a future one. The several passions and propensions 
implanted in our hearts, incline us, in a multitude of instan- 
ces, to forbidden pleasures ; this inward infirmity is increa- 
sed by various snares and temptations, perpetually occurring 
from without : hence arises the necessity of recollection and 
self-government, of withstanding the calls of appetite, and 
forming our minds to habits of piety and virtue ; habits of 
which we are capable, and which, to creatures in a state of 
moral imperfection, and fallen from their original integrity, 
must be of the greatest use, as an additional security, over 
md above the principle of conscience, from the dangers to 
which we are exposed.'* 

Nor is the credibihty here given, by the analog}' of nature, 
to the general doctrine of religion, destroyed or weakened by 
any notions concerning necessity. Of itself it is a mere 
word, the sign of an abstract idea ; and as much requires an 
agent, that is, a necessary agent in order to effect any thing, 
as freedom requires a free agent. Admitting it to be specu- 
latively true, if considered as influencing practice, it is the 
same as false : for it is matter of experience, that, wdth re- 
gard to our present interest, and as inhabitants of this world, 
we are treated as if we were free ; and therefore the analo- 
gy of nature leads us to conclude, that, with regard to our 
future interest, and as designed for another world, we shall 
be treated as free also. Nor does the opinion of necessity, 
supposing it possible, at all alfect either the general proof of 
religion, or its external evidence. | 

Still objections may be made against the wisdom and good- 
ness of the divine government, to which analogy, which can 
only show the truth or credibility of facts, affords no answer. 
Yet even here analogy is of use, if it suggest that the di- 
vine government is a scheme or sj'stem and not a number 
of unconnected acts, and that this system is also above oui 
comprehension. Now, the government of the natural world 
appears to be a system of tliis kind ; ^vith parts, related to 
each other, and together composing a whole : in which sys 
tem, ends are brought about by the use of means, many of 
which means, before experience, would have been suspected 
to have had a quite contrary tendency ; which is carried on 
by general laws, similar causes uniformly producing similar 
effects ; the utihty of which general laws, and the inconve- 



* Chap. 5. 



t PartLChap.6. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxxvii 



niences which would probably arise from the occasional or 
even secret suspension of them, we are in some sort enabled 
to discern but of the whole we are incompetent judges, 
because of the small part which comes within our view. 
Reasoning then from what we know, it is highly credible, 
that the government of the moral world is a system also car- 
ried on by general laws, and in which ends a,re accomplish- 
ed by the intervention of means ; and that both constitu ■ 
tions, the natural and the moral, are so connected, as to form 
together but one scheme. But of this scheme, as that of 
the natural world taken alone, w^e are not qualified to judge 
on account of the mutual respect of the several parts to each 
other and to the whole, and our own incapacity to survey 
the whole, or, with accuracy, any single part. All objec- 
tions, therefore, to the wisdom and goodness of the divine 
government may be founded merely on our ignorance ;| and 
to such objections our ignorance is the proper, and a satis- 
factory answer.! 

2. The chief difficulties concerning Natural Religion be- 
ing now removed, our Author proceeds, in the next place, to 
that which is revealed ; and as an introduction to an inquiry 
into the Credibility of Christianity, begins with the conside- 
ration of its Importance. 

The importance of Christianity appears in two respects. 
Firstj In its being a republication of natural Religion, in its 
native simplicity, with authority, and with circumstances of 
advantage ; ascertaining in many instances of moment, 
what before was only probable, and particularly confirming 
the doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments. § 
Secondly, As revealing a new dispensation of Providence, 
originating from the pure love and mercy of God, and con- 
ducted by the mediation of his Son, and the guidance of 
his Spirit, for the recovery and salvation of mankind, re- 
presented in a state of apostacy and ruin. This account of 
Christianity being admitted to be just, and the distinct offi- 
ces of these three divine persons being once discovered to 
us, we are as much obliged, in point of duty, to acknowledge 
the relations we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our 
Mediator and Sanctifier, as we are obliged in point of duty 

* See a Treatise on Divine Benevolence, by Dr Thomas Balguy, > 
Part ii. 

t See Note F, at the end of this Preface. 
t Part i. Chap. 7. 

S See n(^t6 G, at the end of this Preface 



Ixxxviii 



PREFACE 



to acknowledge the relation we stand in to God the Fa* 

ther ; although the two former of these relations be learnt 
from revelation only, and in the last we are instructed by the 
light of nature ; the obligation in either case, arising from 
the offices themselves, and not at all depending on the man- 
ner in which they are made known to us * 

The presumptions against revelation in general are, that 
it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to what is 
so discovered, and that it was introduced and supported by 
miracles. But in a scheme so large as that of the universe, 
unbounded in extent and everlasting in duration, there must 
of necessity be numberless circumstances which are beyond 
the reach of our faculties to discern, and which can only be 
known by divine illumination. And both in the natural and 
moral government of the world, under which we live, we 
find many things unlike one to another, and therefore ought 
not to wonder if the same unlikeness obtain between things 
visible and invisible ; although it be far from true, that re- 
vealed religion is entirely unlike the constitution of nature, 
as analogy may teach us. Nor is there any thing incredible 
in revelation, considered as miraculous ; whether miracles be 
supposed to have been performed at the beginning of the 
world, or after a course of nature has been established. Not 
at the beginning of the loorld; for then there was either no 
course of nature at all, or a power must have been exerted 
totally different from what that course is at present. All 
men and animals cannot have been born, as they are now ; 
but a pair of each sort must have been produced at first, in 
a way altogether unlike to that in which they have been 
since produced ; unless we affirm, that men and animals 
have existed from eternity in an endless succession. One 
miracle, therefore, at least, there must have been at the be- 
ginning of the world, or at the time of man's creation. Not 
after the settle7nent of a course of nature^ on account of mira- 
cles being contrary to that course, or, in other words, contra- 
ry to experience ; for, in order to know whether miracles, 
worRed in attestation of a divine religion, be contrary to ex- 
perience or not, we ought to be acquainted with other cases, 
similar or parallel to those in which miracles are alleged to 
have been wrought. But where shall we find such similar 
or parallel cases ? The world which w^e inhabit afijDrds 
none. We know of no extraordinary revel' itions from God 



♦ Part ii. Chapter 5 



BY THE EDITOR. 



Ixxxix 



to man, but those recorded in the Old and New Testament ; 
all of which were established by niiracles. It cannot there- 
fore be said, that miracles are incredible, because contrary to 
experience, when all the experience we have is in favor of 
miracles, and on the side of religion.* Besides, in reason- 
ing concerning miracles, they ought not to be compared with 
common natural events, but with uncommon appearances, 
such as coiTiets. magnetism, electricity : which, to one ac- 
quainted only with the usual phenomena of nature, and the 
common powers of matter, must before proof of their actual 
existence, be thought incredible. t 

The presumptions against Revelation in general bemg 
despatched, objections against the Christian Revelation in 
particular, against the scheme of it, as distinguished from 
objections against its evidence, are considered next. Now, 
supposing a revelation to be really given, it is highly proba- 
ble beforehand, that it must contain many things appearing 
to us liable to objections. The acknowledged dispensation 
of nature is very different from what we should have expect- 
ed : reasoning then from analogy, the revealed dispensation, 
it is credible, would be also different. Nor are we in any 
sort judges at what time, or in w^hat degree, or manner it is 
fit or expedient for God to instruct us, in things confessedly 
of the greatest use, either by natural reason, or by superna- 
tural information. Thus, arguing on speculation only, and 
without experience, it would seem very unlikely that so im- 
portant a remedy as that provided by Christianity, for the re- 
covery of mankind fi'om a state of ruin, should have been 
for so many ages withheld ; and, when at last vouchsafed, 
should be imparted to so few ; and, after it has been impart- 
ed, should be attended with obscurity and doubt. And just 
so we might have argued, before experience, concerning the 
remedies provided in nature for bodily diseases, to which 
by nature we are exposed : for many of these were unknown 
to mankind for a number of ages : are known but to few 
now : some important ones proba.bly not discovered yet ; and 
those which are, neither certain in their application, nor uni- 
versal in their use. And the same mode of reasoning that| 
would lead us to expect they should have been so, would 
lead us to expect that the necessity of them should have 
been superseded, by there being no diseases ; as the neces- 
sity of the Christian scheme, it may be thought, might also 



♦ See note H, at the end of this Preface, 



t Chap. 2. 



xc 



PREFACE 



have been superseded, by preventing the fall of man, so that 
he should not have stood m need of a Redeemer at all> 

As to the objections against the v/isdom and goodness of 
Christianity, the same answer may be applied to them as 
was to the like objections against the constitution of nature. 
For here also, Christianity is a scheme or economy, compo- 
sed of various parts, forming a whole, in which scheme means 
are used for the accomplishing of ends ; and w^hich is con- 
ducted by general laws, of all of which we know as httle 
as we do of the constitution of nature. And the seeming 
v/ant of wisdom or goodness in this system is to be ascribed 
to the same cause, as the like appearances of defects in the 
natural system ; our inability to discern the whole scheme, 
and our ignorance of the relation of those parts which aro 
discernible to others beyond our view. 

The objections against Christianity, as a matter of fact, 
and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been ob- 
viated together, the chief of them are now to be considered 
distinctly. One of these, which is levelled against the en- 
tire system itself, is of this sort: The restoration of mankind, 
represented in Scripture as the great design of the gospel, is 
described as requiring a long series of means, and persons, 
and dispensations, before it can be brought to its completion ; 
whereas the whole ought to have been effected at once. 
Now every thing we see in the course of nature, shows the 
folly of this objection. For in the natural course of Provi- 
dence, ends are brought about by means, not operating im- 
mediately and at once, but deliberately and in a way of pro- 
gression ; one thing being subservient to another, this to 
somewhat further. The change of seasons, the ripening of 
fruits, the growth of vegetable and animal bodies, are in- 
stances of this. And therefore, that the same progres- 
sive method should be followed in the dispensation of Chris- 
tianity, as is observed in the common dispensation of Provi- 
dence, is a reasonable expectation justified by the analogy 
of nature. I 

Another circumstance, objected to in the Christian scheme, 
is the appointment of a Mediator, and the saving of the 
world through him. But the visible government of God be- 
ing actually administered in this way, or by the mediation 
and instrumentality of others, there can be no general pre- 
sumption against an appointment of this kindj against this 



♦ Chap. 3. 



t (yhap. 4. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xci 



invisible government being exorcised in the same manner. 
We have seen akeadj, that with regard to ourselves this 
visible government is carried on by rewards and punish- 
ments ; for happiness and misery are the consequences of 
our own actions, considered as virtuous and vicious ; and 
these consequences we are enabled to foresee. It might have 
been imagined, before consulting experience, that after we 
had rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill con- 
duct, sorrow for what was past, and behaving well for the 
future, would, alone, and of themselves, have exempted us 
from deserved punishment, and restored us to the divine fa- 
vor. But the fact is otherwise ; and real reformation is of- 
ten found to be of no avail, so as to secure the criminal from 
poverty, sickness, infamy, and death, the never failing at- 
tendants on vice and extravagance, exceeding a certain de- 
gree. By the course of nature then it appears, God does 
not always pardon a sinner on his repentance. Yet there is 
provision made, even in nature, that the miseries which men 
bring on themselves, by imlav\"ful indulgences, may in many 
cases be mitigated, and in some removed ; partly by extra- 
ordinary exertions of the offender himself, but more espe- 
cially and frequently by the intervention of others, who vo- 
luntarily, and from motives of compassion, submit to labor 
and sorrow, such as produce long and lasting inconveniences 
to themselves, as the means of rescuing another from the 
wretched effects of former imprudences. Vicarious punish- 
ment, therefore, or one person's sufferings contributing to 
the relief of another, is a providential disposition in the econo- 
my of nature.* And it ought not to be matter of surprise, 
if by a method analogous to this we be redeemed from sin 
and misery, in the economy of grace. That mankind at 
present are in a state of degretdation, different from that in 
which they were originally created, is the very ground of 
the Christian revelation, as contained in the Scriptures. 
Whether we acquiesce in the account, that our being placed 
in such'a state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or 
choose to ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no differ- 
ence as to our condition : the vice and unhappiness of the 
world are still there, notwithstanding all our suppositions ; 
nor is it Christianity that hath put us into this state. We 
learn also from the same Scriptures, what experience and 
the use of expiatory sacrifices from the most early times 



* See note I, at the end of this Preface. 



xcii 



PREFACE 



might have taught us, that repentance alone is not sufficient 
to prevent the fatal consequences of past transgressions ! 
But that still there is room for mercy, and that repentance 
shall be available, though not of itself, yet through the me- 
diation of a divine person, the Messiah ; who, from the snb- 
limest principles of compassion, when we were dead in tres- 
passes and sins,* suffered and died, the innocent for the guil- 
ty, the just for the unjust,| that we might have redemption 
through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins. J In what 
way the death of Christ was of that efficacy it is said to 
be, in procuring the reconcihation of sinners, the Scriptures 
have not explained. It is enough that the doctrine is re- 
vealed ; that it is not contrary to any truth which reason 
and experience teach us ; and that it accords in perfect har- 
mony with the usual method of the divine conduct in the 
government of the world. § 

Again it hath been said, that if the Christian revelation 
were true, it must have been universal, and could not have 
been left upon doubtful evidence. But God, in his natural 
providence, dispenses his gifts in great variety, not only 
among creatures of the same species, but to the same indi- 
viduals also at different times. Had the Christian revela- 
tion been universal at first, yet, from the diversity of men's 
abilities, both of mind and body, their various means of im- 
provement, and other external advantages, some persons 
must soon have been in a situation, with respect to religious 
knowledge, much superior to that of others, as much per- 
haps as they are at present. And all men will be equita- 
bly dealt with at last ; and to whom little is given, of him 
little will be required. Then, as to the evidence of religion 
being left doubtful, difficulties of this sort, like difficulties in 
practice, afford scope and opportunity for a virtuous exercise 
of the understanding, and dispose the mind to acquiesce and 
rest satisfied with any evidence that is real. In the daily 
commerce of life, men are obliged to act upon great uncer- 
tainties, with regard to success in their temporal pursuits ; 
and the case with regard to religion is parallel. However, 
though religion be not intuitively true, the proofs of it which 
we have are amply sufficient in reason to induce us to em- 
brace it ; and dissatisfaction with those proofs may possibly 
be men's own fault. || 

Nothing remains but to attend to the positive evidence 



* Eph. ii. 1. 
§ Chap. 5. 



t 1 Pet. iii. 18. 
il Chap. 6* 



t Colos. L 14. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xciii 



there is for the tnith of Christianity. Now, besides its di- 
rect and fundamental proofs, which are mnacles and prophe- 
cies ; there are many collateral circumstances, which may be 
united into one view, and altogether may be considered as ma- 
king up one argument. In this way of treating the subject, 
the revelation, whether real or otherwise, may be supposed 
to be wholly historical : the general design of which appears 
to be, to give an account of the condition of religion, and its 
professors, with a concise narration of the political state of 
thmgs, as far as religion is affected by it, during a great 
length of time, near six thousand years of which are already 
past. More particularly, it comprehends an account of God's 
entering into covenant with one nation, the Jews, that he 
would be their God, and that they should be his people ; of 
his often interposing in their affairs ; giving them the pro- 
mise ; and afterwards the possession, of a flomishing coun- 
try; assuring them of the greatest national prosperity in 
case of their obedience, and threatening the severest nation- 
al punishment in case they forsook him, and joined in the 
idolatry of 'their pagan neighbors. It contains also a pre- 
diction of a particular person to appear in the fuhiess of time, 
in whom all the promises of God to the Jews were to be ful- 
filled. And it relates, that, at the time expected, a per- 
son did actually appear, assuming to be the Saviour fore 
told ; that he worked various miracles among them, in con- 
firmation of his divine authority ; and as was foretold also, 
was rejected and put to death by the very people who had 
long desired and waited for his coming : But that his reli- 
gion, in spite of all opposition, was established in the world 
by his disciples, invested with supernatural powers for that 
purpose ; of the fate and fortunes of which religion there is 
a prophetical description, carried down to the end of time. 
Let any one now, after reading the above history, and not 
knowing whether the whole were not a fiction, be supposed 
to ask. Whether all that is here related be true ? and instead 
of a direct answer, let him be informed of the several ac- 
knowledged facts, which are found to correspond to it in real 
life ; and then, let him compare the history and facts toge- 
ther, an(f observe the astonishing coincidence of both : Such 
a joint review must appear to him of very great weight, and 
to amount to evidence somewhat more than human. And 
unless the whole series, and every particular circumstance 



xciv 



PREFACE 



contained in it, can be thought to have arisen from accident, 
the truth of Christianity is proved * 

The view here given of the moral and religious systems 
of Bishop Butler, it will immediately be perceived, is chiefly 
intended for younger students, especially for students in di- 
vinity ; to whom it is hoped it may be of use, so as to en- 
courage them to peruse, with proper diligence, the original 
works of the Author himself. For it may be necessary to 
observe, that neither of the volumes of tliis excellent pre- 
late are addressed to those who read for amusement, or curio- 
sity, or to get rid of time. All subjects are not to be com- 
prehended with the same ease ; and morality and religion, 
when treated as sciences, each accompanied with difficulties 
of its own, can neither of them be understood as they ought, 
without a very peculiar attention. But morality and reli- 
gion are not merely to be studied as sciences, or as being 
speculatively true ; they are to be regarded in another and 
higher light, as the rule of life and manners, as containing 
authoritative directions by which to regulate our faith and 
practice. And m this view, the infinite importance of them 
considered, it can never be an indifferent matter whether 
they be received or rejected. For both claim to be the voice 
of God ; and whether they be so or not, cannot be know, 
till their claims be imipartially exammed. If they indeed 
come from him, we are bound to conform to them at our 
peril : nor is it left to our choice, whether we will submit to 
the obligations they impose upon us or not ; for submit to 
them we must, in such a sense, as to incur the punishments 
denounced by both against wilful disobedience to their in- 
junctions. 

* Chap. 7. To the Analogy are subjoined two Dissertations, both on 
ginally inserted in the body of the work. One on Personal Identity, in 
which are contained some strictures on Mr Locke, who asserts that con- 
sciousness makes or constitutes personal identity ; whereas, as our author 
observes, consciousness makes orily personality, or is necessary- to the idea of 
a person, i. e. a thinking, inteUigent being, but presupposes, and therefore 
cannot constitute, personal identity; just as knowledge presupposes truth, 
but does not constitute it. Consciousness of past actions does indeed show 
us the identity of ourselves, or gives us a certain assurance that we are the 
same persons or living agents now. w^hich we were at the time to which our 
remembrance can look back ; but still we should be t-he same persons as we 
were, though this consciousness of what is past were wanting, though all 
that had been done by us formerly w^ere forgotten ; unless it be true, that 
no person has existed a single moment beyond what he can remember. 
The other dissertation is On the JSature'of Viiiue, which properly be 
longs to the moral system of our Author already explained. • 



The followmg Epitaph, said to be written by Dr Nathan- 

iel Forster, is inscribed on a fiat marble stone, in the ca- 
thedral church of Bristol, placed over the spot where the 
remains of Bishop Butler are deposited ; and which, as 
it is now almost obliterated, it may be worth while here to 
preserve. 

H. S. 

Reverendus admodum in Christo Pater 
JOSEPHUS BUTLER, LL. D. 
Hujusce priino Dioeceseos 
Deinde Dunelmensis Episcopus. 

Glualis quantusq ; Yir erat 
Sua libentissime agnovit set as : 
Et SI quid Praesuli aut Scriptoii ad famam valent 
Mens aitissimaj 
Ingenii perspicacis et subacti Vis, 
Animusq ; pius, siinplexj Candidas, liberalise 
Mortui baud facile evanescet memoria. 
Obiit Bathonise 16 Kalend. Juli^ 
A. D. 175-2. 
Aanosnatu GO. 



I 



NOTES TO THE PREFACE, 



BY 



THE EDITOR. 



Page xviu A. 

Dr BuTLERj when Bishop of Bristol, put up a cross, a plain piece of 
marble inlaid, in the chapel of his episcopal house. This, which was in- 
tended by the blameless prelate merely as a sign or memorial, that true 
Christians are to bear their cross, and not to be ashamed of following a 
crucified Master, was considered as affording a presumption, that he was 
secretly inchned to Popish forms and ceremonies, and had no great dis- 
like to Popery itself. And, on account of the offence it occasioned, both at 
the time and since, it were to be wished, in prudence, it had not been done. 

Page XX. B. 

Many of the sentunents, in these two Discourses of Bishop Butler con- 
cerning the sovereign good of man ; the impossibility of procuring it in the 
present life ; the unsatisfactoriness of earthly enjoyment ; together with 
the somewhat be3^ond and above them all, which once attained, there wdll 
rest notliing further to be wished or hoped ; and which is then only to be 
expected, when we shall have put off this mortal body, and our union 
with God shall be complete ; occur in Hooker^ s Ecclesiastical Polity, Book 
L sec. xi. 

Page xxii. C. 

When the first edition of this Preface was published, I had in vain en- 
deavoured to procure a sight of the papers, in which Bishop Butler was ac- 
cused of having died a Papist, and Archbishop Seeker's repUes to them ; 
though I well remember to have read both, when they first appeared in 
the public prints. But a learned professor in the University of Oxford 
has furnished me with the whole controvei^ in its original form a brief 
history of which it may not be unacceptable to of&x here to the curious 
reader. 

The attack was opened in the year 1767, in an anonymous pamphlet enti- 
C ed, ' I'he Root of Protestant Errors Examined in which the author as- 

9 



xcvni 



NOTES TO THE PREFACE, 



serted, that, ' by an anecdote lately given him/ that ' some Prelate (who 
at the bottom of the page is called B— p of D—m) ' is said to have died in 
the conmiunion of a Church, that makes much use of saints, saints' days, 
and all the trumpery of saint worship.' "When this remarkable fact, now 
first divulged, came to be generally known, it occasioned, as might be ex- 
pected, no little alarm ; and inteihgence of it was no sooner conveyed ti 
Archbishop Seeker, than, in a short letter, signed Misopseudes, and print- 
ed in the ' St James's Chronicle of May 9,' he called upon the writer to 
produce his authority for publishing ' so gross and scandalous a falsehood.' 
To this challenge an immediate answer was returned by the author of the 
pamphlet, who, now assuming the name of Phileleutheros, informed Mi- 
sapseudes, through the channel of the same paper, that ' such anecdote had 
been given him ; and that he was yet of opinion that there was nothing 
improbable in it, when it is considered that the same prelate put up the Po- 
pish insignia of the cross in his chapel, when at Bristol ; and in his last 
Episcopal Charge, has squinted very much towards that superstition/ 
Here w^e iind the accusation not only repeated, but supported by reasons, 
such as they are, of which it seemed necessary that some notice should be 
taken: nor did the Arclibishop conceive it unbecoming his own dignity to 
stand up on this occasion, as the vindicator of innocence against the calum- 
niator of the helpless dead. Accordingly, in a second letter in the same 
newspaper of May 23. and subscribed Misopseudes as before ; after reci- 
ting from Bishop Butler's Sermon before the Lords, the very passage here 

Srinted in the Preface, and observing, that ' there are in the same sermon, 
eclarations as strong as can be made, against temporal punishment for here- 
sy, schism, or even lor idolatry ;' his Grace expresses himself thus : ' Now 
he (Bishop Butler) was universally esteemed, throughout his Hfe, a m.an 
of strict piety and nonesty, as well as uncommon abilities. He gave all the 
proofs, public and private, which his station led liim to give, and theyw^ere 
decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last a sincere member ol 
the Church of England. Nor had ever any of iiis acquaintance, or most 
intimate friends, nor have they to this day, the least doubt of it.' As to put- 
ting up a cross in his chapel, the Archbishop frankly owais, that for him- 
self he wishes he had not ; and thinks that in so dogig the Bishop did 
amiss. But then he asks, ' can that be opposed, as any proof of Popery, 
to all the evidence on the other side, or even to the single evidence of the 
above mentioned sermon 7 Most of our churches have crosses upon them : 
are they therefore Popish churches? The Lutherans have more than 
crosses in theirs : are the Lutherans therefore Papists? And as to the 
Charge^ no Papist, his Grace remarks, would have spoken as Bishop But- 
ler there does, of the observances peculiar to Roman Catholics^ some of 
which he expressly censures as wrong and superstitious, and others, as 
made subservient to the purposes of superstition, and, on these accounts, 
abolished at the Reformation. After the publication of this letter, Phile- 
leutheros replied in a short defence of his own conduct, but without pro- 
ducing any thing new in confirm^ation of what he had advanced. And 
here the controversy, so far as the two principles were concerned, seercs (o 
have ended. 

But the dispute w^as not suffered to die away quite so soon. For in the 
came year, and in the same new spaper of July 21, another letter appeared ; 
in which the author not only contended that the cross in the Episcopal Cha- 
pel at Bristol, and the Charge to the Clergy of Durham in 1751, amount 
to full proof of a sti'ong attachment to the idolatrous communion of the 
Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, he would fain account for 
the Bishop's ' tendency this way.' And this he attempted to do, ' from 
the natural melancholy and gloominess of Dr Butler's disposition ; froiu? 
nis great fondness for the lives of Roman saints, and their lioks of mysti 



BY THE EDITOR. 



XCIX 



piety ; from his drawdng the notions of teaching men religion, not from 
the New Testament, but from philosophical and political opinions of his 
own ; and above all, from his transition from a strict dissenter amongst the 
presbyterians to a rigid chm-chman, and his sudden and unexpected eleva- 
tion to great wealth and dignity in the Church.' The attack, thus renew- 
ed, excited the Archbishop's attention a second time, and drew from liima 
fresh answer, subscribed also Misopseudes, in the ' St. James's Chronicle 
of August 4,' In this letter, our excellent Metropolitan, first of all ob- 
liquely hinting at the unfairness of sitting in judgement on the character 
of a man who had been dead fifteen years ; and then reminding his corres- 
pondent, that ' full proof had been already pubUshed, that Bishop Butler 
abhorred Popery as a vile corruption of Christianity, and that it might be 
proved, if needtul, that he held the pope to be the antichrist (to which de- 
cisive testimonies of undoubted aversion from the Romish Church, another 
is also added in the Postscript, his taking, when promoted to the see of 
Durham, for his domestic chaplain, Dr INath. Forster, who had publish- 
ed, not four years before, a Sermon, entitled. Popery Destructive of the Evi- 
dence of Christianity;) proceeds to observe, ' That the natural melancholy 
of the Bishop's temper would rather have fixed him amongst his first 
friends, than prompted him to the change he made : That he read books 
of all sorts, as well as books of mystic piet}^, and knew how to pick the 
good that was in them out of the bad : That liis opinions were exposed 
without reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons ; and if the doctrine of 
either be Popish or unscriptural, the learned world hath mistaken strange- 
ly in admiring both : That instead of being a strict dissenter, he never was 
a communicant in any dissenting assembly , on the contrary, that he went 
occasionally, from his early years, to the established worship, and became a 
constant conformist to it when he was barely of age, and entered himself, in 
1714, of Oriel College : That his elevation to great dignity in the Church, 
far from being sudden and unexpected, was a gradual and natural rise, 
vhrougha variety of preferments, and a period of tliirty-two years : That, 
as Bishop of Durham, he had very httle authority beyond his brethren, and, 
in ecclesiastical matters, had none beyond them ; a larger income than most 
of them he had ; but this he employed, not, as was insinuated, in augment- 
ing the pomp of worship in his cathedral, where, indeed, it is no greater 
than in others, but for the purposes of charity, and in the repairing of his 
houses.' After these remarks, the letter closes with the following words : 
' Upon the whole, few accusations so entirely groundless, have been so per- 
tinaciously, I am unwilling to say mahciously, carried on, as the present ; 
and surely it is high tune for the authors and abettors of it, m mere com- 
mon prudence, to show some regard, if not to the truth, at least to shair e.' 

It only remains to be mentioned, that the above letter of Archbishop 
Seeker, had such an effect on a writer, who signed himself in the ' St. 
James's Chronicle of August 25,' A Dissenting Minister, that he declar- 
ed it of his opinion, that ' the author of the pamphlet called the Root of Pro- 
testant Errors Examined, and his friends, were obliged in candor, injustice, 
and in honour, to retract their charge, unless they could establish it on 
much better grounds, than had hitherto appeared ; and he expressed his 
* hopes, that it would be understood that the dissenters in general had no 
hand in the accusation, and that it had only been the act of two or three 
mistaken men.' Another person also, ' a foreigner by birth,' as he says of 
himself, who had been long an admirer of Bishop Butler, and had perused 
with great attention all that had been written on both sides in the present 
controversy, confesses he had been ' wonderfully pleased with observing, 
with what candour and temper, as well as clearness and soHdity, he 
was vindicated from the aspersions laid against her.' All the adversaries 
of our prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus convinced ; 



c 



NOTES TO THE PREFACE, 



some of whom still continued, under the signatures of Old Martin^ LatU 
mer, An Impartial Protestant^ Paulinus^ iliz!50??o//iis, to repeat their coi>- 
futed falsehoods in the public prints : as if the curse of calumniators had 
fallen upon them, and tlieir memory, by being long a traitor to truth, had 
taken at last a severe revenge, and compelled them to credit their own Ue. 
The first of these gentlemen, Old Martin^ who dates from Newcastle, May 
29, from the rancour and malignity with which his letter abounds, and from 
the particular virulence he discovers towards the characters of Bishop But- 
ler and his defender, I conjecture to be no other than the very person who had 
already figm-ed in this dispute, so early as the year 1752; of whose work^ 
entitled, ' A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Re- 
ligion,' the reader will find some account in the notes subjoined to the Bish- 
op's Charge in the second volume. 

Page xxiii. 

The letters, with a sight of which I was indulged by the fa\or of our 
present most worthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped toge- 
ther under one cover; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop 
Seeker's own hand, the following words, or words to this effect, * Presmnp- 
tive Arguments that Bishop Butler did not die a Papist.' 

Page xxvii. 

* Far be it from me,' says the excellent Dr T. Balguy,* * to dispute the 
reality of a moral principle in the human heart. 1 feci its existence : I 
clearly discern its use and importance. But in no respect is it more impor- 
tant, than as it suggests the idea of a moral governor. Let this idea be 
once efi^^aced, and the principle of conscience will soon be found weak and 
ineffectual. Its influence on men's conduct has, indeed, been too much un- 
dervalued by some philosophical inquiries. But be that influence, while 
it last, more or less^ it is not a steady and permanent principle of action. 
Unhappily we always have it in our power to lay it asleep. — Neglect alone 
will suppress and stifle it, and bring it almost into a state of stupefaction. 
Nor can any thing, less than the terrors of religion, awaken our minds 
from this dangerous and deadly sleep. It can never be a matter of indifier- 
ence to a thinking man, whether he is to be happy or miserable beyond the 
grave.' 

Page xxxui. 

The ignorance of man is a favourite doctrine with Bishop Butler. 
It occurs in the Second Part of the Analogy ; it makes the subject of his 
Fifteenth Sermon ; and we meet with it again in his Charge. Wheth- 
er, sometimes, it be not carried to a length which is excessive, may admit 
of doubt. 

Page xxxiiL 

^ Admirable to this purpose are the words of Dr T. Balguy, in the 9th ot 
his Discourses, already referred to, p. Ixii. ' The doctrine of a life to come^ 
some persons vdll say, is a doctrine of natural religion ; and can never, 
therefore, be properly alleged to show the importance of revelation. They 
judge, perhaps, from the fiame of the world, that the present ^stem is im- 



* Discourse ix. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



ci 



perfect; they see designs in it, not yet completed,- and they think Ihey 
nave grounds for expecting another state, in which these designs shall be 
farther carried on, and brought to a conclusion, worthy of infinite wisdom. 
I am not concerned to dispute Xhe justness of this reasoning ; nor do 1 wish 
to dispute it. But how far will it reach 1 Will it lead us to the Christian 
doctrine of a judgement to come 7 "Will it give us the prospect of an eter- 
nity of happiness 7 Nothing of all this. It shows us only, that death is 
not the end of our being ; that we are likely to pass hereafter inta other sys- 
tems, more favourable than the present to the great ends of God's provi- 
dence, the virtue and the happiness of his intelligent creatures. But into 
what systems we are to be removed ; what new scenes are to be presented 
to us, either of pleasure or pain ; what new parts we shall have to act, and 
to what trials and temptations we may yet be exposed ; on all these sub- 
jects we know just nothing. That our happiness /o?- ever depends on our 
conduct Acre, is a most important proposition, which we learn only from 
revelation.^ 

Page XXXV. H. 

In the common affairs of life, common experience is sufficient to direct 
us. But will comm^on experience serve to guide our j udgement concerning 
the^aZZ and redemption of mankind 7 from what we see every day. can we 
explain the commencement^ or foretell the dissolution of the world 7 To 
judge of events like these, we should be conversant in the history of other 
planets ; should be distinctly informed of God's various dispensations to all the 
different orders of rational beings. Instead, then, of grounding our religious 
opinions on what we call experience^ let us apply to a more certain guide, 
let us hearken to the testimony of God himself. The credibihty of human 
testimony^ and the conduct of human agents, are subjects perfectly within 
the reach of our natural faculties ; and w^e ought to desire no firmer founda- 
tion for our belief of religion, than for the judgements we form in the com- 
mon affairs of life ; where we see a little plain testimony easily outweighs 
the most specious conjectures, and not seldom even strong probabilities.' 
Dr. Balguy's 4th Charge. See also an excellent pamphlet, entitled, ' Re- 
marks on Mr. Hume's Essay on the Natural History of Religion,' Sect. 
5 J and the 6th of Dr Powell's Discourses, 

Page xxxvii. I. 

Dr Arthur Ashley Sykes, from whose writings some good may be col- 
lected out of a multitude of things of a contrary tendency, in what he is 

E leased to call ' The Scripture doctrine of Redemption,'* opposes what is 
^ ere advanced by Bishop Butler ; quoting his words but without mention- 
ing his name. If what is said above be not thought a sufficient answer to 
the objections of this author, the reader may do well to consult a Charge 
*On the ^se and Abuse of Philosophy in the Study of Religion,' by the 
late Dr Powell ; who seems to me to have had the observations of Dr Sykes 
in his view, where he is confuting the reasonings of certain philosophizing 
divines against the doctrine of the atonement. Powell's Discourses, Charge 
III. p. 342— 348. 

♦ See the observations on the texts citetl in his first chapter, and also in 
chapters the fifth and sixth. 



9* 



ADVERTISEMENT 



If the reader should meet here with any thing which he 
had not before attended to, it will not be in the observations 
upon the constitution and course of nature, these being all 
obvious ; but in the application of thern : in which, though 
there is nothing but what appears to me of some real weight, 
and therefore, of great importance ; yet he will observe 
several things which will appear to liim of very little, if he 
can think things to be of Uttie importance, which are of any 
real weight at all, upon such a subject as rehgion. How- 
ever, the proper force of the follovvung treatise lies in the 
whole general analogy considered together. 

It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by 
many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject 
of inquiry ; but that it is, now at length, discovered to be 
fictitious. And accordingly they treat it, as if, in the pre« 
sent age, this were an agreed point among all people of dis- 
cernment ; and nothing remained, but to set it up as a prin- 
cipal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of re- 
prisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the 
world. On the contrarj^, thus much, at least, will be here 
found, not taken for granted, but proved, that any reasona- 
ble man, who will thoroughly consider the matter, may be 
as much assured, as he is of his own being, that it is not, 
however, so clear a case, that there is nothing in it. There 
is, I think, strong evidence of its truth ; but it is certain 



civ 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



no one can, upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the 
contrary. And the practical consequence to be drawn 
from this, is not attended to, by every one who is concerned 
in it. 



May, 1736. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Probable evidence is essentially distinguished from de- 
monstrative by thisj that it admits of degrees, and of all 
variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the ve- 
ry lowest presumption. We cannot, indeed, say a thing is 
probably true upon one very slight presumption for it ; be- 
cause, as there may be probabihties on both sides of the 
question, there may be some against it ; and though there 
be not, yet a slight presumption does not beget that degree 
of conviction, which it implied in saying a thing is probably 
true. But that the sHghtest possible presumption is of the 
nature of a probability, appears from hence, that such low 
presumption, often repeated, will amount even to moral cer- 
tainty. Thus, a mean's having observed the ebb and flow of 
the tide to-day, affords some sort of presumption, though the 
lowest imaginable, that it may happen again to-morrow ; 
but the observation of this event for so many days, and 
months, and ages together, as it has been observed by 
mankind, gives us a full assurance that it will. 

That which chiefi}^ constitutes probability^ is expressed in 
the word likely ; i. e. Uke some truth,* or true event ; like it, 
in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer of its circum- 
stances. For when we determine a thing to be probably 
true, suppose that an event has or will come to pass, 13 
from the mind's remarking in it a likeness to some other events 



♦ Verisemile, 



1C6 



INTRODUCTION. 



which we have observed has come to pass. And this ob- 
Bervation forms, in numberless daily instances, a presump- 
tion, opinion, or full conviction, that such event has or will 
come to pass ; according as the observation is, that the like 
event has sometimes, most commonly, or always, so far as 
our observation reaches, come to pass at like distances of 
time, or place, or upon like occasions. Hence arises the be- 
lief, that a child, if it lives twenty years, will grow^ up to the 
stature and strength of a man ; that food will contribute to 
the preservation of its life, and the want of it for such a 
number of days be its certain destruction. So, likewise, the 
rule and measure of our hopes and fears concerning the suc- 
cess of our pursuits ; our expectations that others will act 
so and so in such circumstances ; and our judgment that 
such actions proceed from such principles ; all these rely 
upon our having observed the like to what we hope, fear, ex- 
pect, judge ; 1 say upon our having observed the like, either 
with respect to others or ourselves. And thus, whereas the 
prince,* who had always Hved in a warm climate, naturally 
concluded, in the way of analogy, that there was no such 
thing as water's becoming hard, because he had always ob- 
served it to be fluid and yielding ; we, on the contrary, from 
analogy, conclude, that there is no presumption at all against 
this ; that it is supposable there may be frost in England 
any given day in January next ; probable, that there 
will on some day of the month ; and that there is a moral 
certainty, i. e. ground for an expectation, without any doubt 
of it, in some part or other of the winter. 

Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an im- 
perfect kind of information, pmd is to be considered as rela 
tive only to beings of hmited capacities. For nothing which 
is the possible object of knowledge, whether past, present, or 
future, can be probable to an infinite intelligence ? since it 
cannot but be discerned absolutely as it is in itself certair^y 
true, or certainly false. But to us, probability is the very 
guide of life. 

From these things it follows, that in questions of difficul- 
ty, or such as are thought so, where more satisfactory evi- 
dence cannot be had, or is not seen, if the result of examina- 
tion be, that there appears, upon the whole, any the lowest 
presumption on one side, and none on the other, or a greater 
presumption on one side, though in the lowest degree grea- 



♦ The Story is told by Mr Locke, in the chapter of Probability. 



INTRODUCTION. 



107 



ter, tins determines the question, even in matters of specu- 
lation ; and, in matters of practice, will lay us under an ab- 
solute and formal obligation, in point of prudence and of in- 
terest, to act upon that presumption, or low probability, 
though it be so low as to leave the mind in a very great 
doubt which is the truth. For surely a man is as really 
bound in prudence to do what upon the whole appears, ac- 
cording to the best of his judgment, to be for his happiness, 
as what he certainly knows to be so. Nay, further, in ques- 
tions of great consequence, a reasonable man will think it 
concerns him to remark lower probabilities and presumptions 
than these ; such as amount to no more than showing one 
side of a question to be as supposable and credible as the 
other ; nay, such as but amount to much less even than 
this. For numberless instances might be mentioned res- 
pecting the common pursuits of life, w^here a mian would be 
thought, in a literal sense, distracted, who would not act, 
and with great application too, not only upon an even 
chance, but upon much less, and where the probability or 
chance was greatly against his succeeding.* ^ 

It is not - my design to inquire further into the nature, the 
foundation, and measure of probability ; or w^hence it pro- 
ceeds, that likeness should beget that presumption, opinion, 
and full conviction, which tne human mind is formed to re- 
ceive from it, and which it does necessarily produce in every 
one ; or to guard against the errors to which reasoning from 
analogy is liable. This belongs to the subject of logic, and 
is a part of this subject which has not yet been thoroughly 
considered. Indeed I shall not take upon me to say, how 
far the extent, compass, and force^ of analogical reasoning 
oan be reduced to general heads and rules, and the whole be 
formed into a system. But though so little in this v/ay has 
been attempted by those who have treated of our intellectu- 
al powers, and the exercise of them, this does not hinder 
but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, assured, that 
analogy is of weight, various degrees, towards determining 
our judgment, and our practice. Nor does it in any wise 
cease to be of weight in those cases, because persons, either 
given to dispute, or who require things to be stated with 
greater exactness than our faculties appear to admit of in 
practical matters, may find other cases, in which it is not 



*See Chap. vL Part 2. 



108 



INTRODUCTION. 



easy to say, whether it be, or be not, of any weight ; or in- 
stances of seeming analogies, which are really of none. It 
is enough to the present purpose to observe, that this gene- 
ral way of arguing is evidently natural, just and conclusive. 
For there is no man can make a question but that the sun 
will rise to-morrow, and be seen, where it is seen at all, in 
the figure of a circle, and not in that of a square. 

Hence, namelj from analogical reasoning, Origen* has 
with singular sagacity observed, that, ' he who beheves the 
Scriptures to have proceeded from him who is the Author 
of nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficul- 
ties in it, as are found in the constitution of nature.' And, 
in a like way of reflection, it may be added, that he who de- 
nies the Scripture to have been from God, upon account of 
these difficulties, may for the very same reason, deny the 
world to have been formed by him. On the other hand, if 
there be an analogy, or likeness, between that system of 
things and dispensation of Providence which revelation in- 
forms us of, and that system of things and dispensation of 
Providence which experience, together with reason, informs 
us of, i. e. the known course of nature ; this is a presump- 
tion, that they have both the same author and cause ; at 
least so far as to answer objections against the former being 
from God, drawn from any thing which is analogical or simi- 
lar to what is in the latter, which is acknowledged to be 
from him ; for an Author of nature is here supposed. 

Forming our notions of the constitution and government 
of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for the 
principles which we assume, whether from the attributes of 
God, or any thing else, is building a world upon hypothesis, 
like Des Cartes. Forming our notions upon reasoning from 
principles which are certain, but applied to cases to which 
we have no ground to apply them, (like those who explain 
the structure of the human body, and the nature of diseases 
and medicines, from mere mathematics, without sufficient 
data) is an error much akin to the former : since what is as- 
sumed, in order to make the reasoning appHcable, is hypothe- 
sis. But it must be allowed just, to join abstract reasoning 
with the observation of facts, and argue from such facts as 
are known, to others that are Hke them ; fr'om that part of 
the Divine government over intelligent creatures, which 

* Xpj? ix£v Toi y£ Tov arra^ 'TapaSe^ajjLSvov ts KTLaavrog rov kog^ov Eivai rav- 
ras ras ypac^as TreKeicrdai, bri bffa Trepi rrjs KTia-tcDg a-rravra rois ^rjrSai tov wepi 
avTT]^ XoyoVf ravra Kai irtpi to)v ypajxav. Philocal. p. 23. Ed. Cant. 



INTRODUCTION. 



109 



comes under our view, to that larger and more general go- 
vernment over them which is beyond it ; and from what ia 
present, to collect what is likelv, credible, or not incredible. / 
"^vill be hereafter. 

This method, then, of concluding and determining, being 
practical, and what, if we will act at all, we cannot but act 
upon in the common pursuits of hfe ; being evidently con- 
clusive, in various degrees, proportionable to the degree 
and exactness of the whole analogy or likeness ; and hav- 
ing so gi-eat authority for its introduction into the subject of 
religion, even revealed religion, my design is to apply it to 
that subject in general, both natural and revealed : taking 
for proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Na- 
ture, and natural Governor of the world. For as there is no 
presumption against this, prior to the proof of it, so it has 
been often proved with accumulated evidence ; from this ar- 
gument of analogy and final causes ; from abstract reason- 
ings ; from the most ancient tradition and testimony ; and 
from the general consent of mankind. iS or does it appear, 
so far as I can find, to be denied hy the generahty of those 
who profess themselves dissatisfied with the evidence of 
religion. 

As there are some, who, instead of thus attending to what 
is in fact the constitution of Nature, form their notions of 
God's government upon hypothesis ; so there are others who 
indulge themselves in vain and idle speculations, how the 
world might possibly have been framed otherwise than it is : 
and upon supposition that things might, in imagining that 
they should, have been disposed and carried on after a 
better model, than what appears in the present disposition 
a.nd conduct of them. Suppose, now, a person of such a 
turn of mind to go on with his reveries, till he had at length 
fixed upon some particular plan of Nature, as appearing to 
him the best, — one shall scarce be thought guilty of detrac- 
tion against human understanding, if one should say, even 
beforehand, that the plan which this speculative person 
would fix upon, though he were the wisest of the sons of 
men, probably would not be the very best, even accor- 
ding to his own notion of best ; whether he thought 
that to be so which afforded occasions and motives for the 
exercise of the greatest virtue, or which was productive of 
the greatest happiness, or that these two were necessarily 
connected, and ivan up into one and the same plan. How- 
ever it may not be amiss, once for ail, to see what would be 

10 



110 



INTRODUCTION. 



the amount of these emendations and imaginary improve- 
ments upon the system Nature, or how far they would 
mislead us. And it seems there could be no stopping, till we 
came to some such conclusions as these : — That all crea- 
tures should at first be made as perfect and as happy, 
as they were capable of ever being ; that nothing, to be 
sure, of hazard or danger should be put upon them to 
do ; some indolent persons would perhaps think, nothing at 
all ; or certainly, that elFectual care should be taken, that 
they should, whether necessary or not, yet eventually and 
in fact, always do what was right and most conducive to 
happiness, which would be thought easy for infinite power 
to effect, either by not giving them any principles which 
would endanger their going wrong, or by lajdng the right 
motive of action in every instance, before their minds con- 
tinually, in so strong a manner, as would nev^cr fail of indu- 
cing them to act conformably to it ; and that the whole 
method of government by punishments should be rejected 
as absurd ; as an awkward round-about method of carrying 
things on ; nay, as contrary to a principal purpose, for which 
it would be supposed creatures were made, namely, hap- 
piness. 

Now, without considering what is to be said in particu- 
lar to the several parts of this train of folly and extrava- 
gance, what has been above intimated is a full, direct, gene- 
ral answer to it, namely, that we may see beforehand that 
we have not faculties for this kind of speculation. For 
though it be admitted, that, from the first principles of 
our nature, we unavoidably judge or determine some ends 
to be absolutely in themselves preferable to others, and 
that the ends now mentioned, or if they tun up into one, 
that this one is absolutely the best, and consequently, that 
we must conclude the ultimate ends designed in the con- 
stitution of nature and conduct of Providence, is the most 
virtue and happiness possible ; yet we are far from being 
able to judge what particular disposition of things would 
be most friendly and assistant to virtue, or what means 
might be absolutely necessary to produce the most happi- 
ness in a system of such extent as our own world may be, 
taking in all that is past and to come, though we should 
suppose it detached from the whole of things. Indeed, wo 
are so far from being able to judge of this, that we are not 
judges what may be the necessary means of raising and 
conducting one person to the highest perfection and happiness 



INTRODUCTION, 



111 



of his nature. Nay, even in the little affairs of the present 
life, we find men of different education and ranks are not 
competent judges of the conduct of each other. Our whole 
nature leads us to ascribe all moral perfection to God, and 
to deny all imperfection in him. And this will forever be a 
practical proof of his moral character, to such as will con- 
sider what a practical proof is, because it is the voice of 
God speaking in us. And fi'om hence we conclude, that 
virtue must be the happiness, and vice the misery, of every 
creatare ; and that regularity, and order, and right, cannot 
but prevail, finally, in a universe under his government. 
But we are in no sort judges what are the necessary means 
of accomplishing this end. 

Let us, then, instead of that idle and not very innocent 
employment of forming imaginary models of a world, and 
schemes of governing it, turn our thoughts to what we ex- 
perience to be the conduct of Nature with respect to intelli- 
gent creatures ; which may be resolved into general laws 
or rules of administration, in the same way as many of the 
laws of Nature, respecting inanimate matter, may be col- 
lected from experiments. And let us compare the known 
constitution and course of things with what is said to be the 
moral system of Nature, the acknowledged dispensations of 
Providence, or that government which we find ourselves 
under, with what religion teaches us to beheve and expect, 
and see whether they are not analogous, and of a piece. 
And upon such a comparison it will, I think, be found, that 
they are very much so ; that both may be traced up to the 
same general laws, and resolved into the same principles of 
Divine conduct. 

The analogy here proposed to be considered, is of pretty 
large extent, and consists of several parts ; in some more, 
in others less, exact. In some few instances, perhaps, it 
may amount to a real practical proof, in others not so ; yet 
in these it is a confirmation of what is proved otherwise. It 
will undeniably show, what too many want to have shown 
them, that the system of religion, both natural and revealed, 
considered only as a system, and prior to the proof of it, is 
not a subject of ridicule, unless that of nature be so too. 
And it will afibrd an answer to almost all objections against 
the system both of natural and of revealed religion, though 
not perhaps an answer in so great a degree, yet in a very 
considerable degree an answer, to the objections against the 
evidence of i^ ; for, objections agamst a proof, and objections 



112 



INTRODUCTION. 



against what is said to be proved, the reader will observe, 
are different things. 

Now, the divine government of the world, implied in the 
notion of religion in general, and of Christianity, contains 
in it, — That mankind is appointed to live in a futm'e state 
that 'here every one shall be rewarded or punished; | re- 
warded or pmiished respectively for all that behaviour here 
which we comprehend under the words, virtuous or vicious, 
morally good or evil : J that our present life is a probation, 
a state of trial, § and of discipline, jj for that future one ; 
notwithstanding the objections which men may fancy they 
have, from notions of necessity, against there being any 
such moral plan as this at all ; IF and whatever objections 
may appear to lie against the wisdom and goodness of it, as 
it stands so imperfectly made known to us at present : * ^ 
that this world being in a state of apostacy and wickedness, 
and consequently of ruin, and the sense both of their condi- 
tion and duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, this 
gave occasion for an additional dispensation of Providence, 
of the utmost importance, 1 1 proved by miracles, J J but 
containing in it many things appearing to us strange, and 
not to have been expected ; § § a dispensation of Providence, 
which is a scheme or system of things || || carried on by the 
mediation of a Divine person, the Messiah, in order to the 
recovery of the world : "[[ir yet not revealed to all men, nor 
proved with the strongest possible evidence to all those to 
whom it is revealed ; but only to such a part of mankind, 
and with such particular evidence, as the wisdom of God 
thought fit.^'^^^''^ The design, then, of the following Treatise 
will be to show, that the several parts principally objected 
against in his moral and Christian dispensation, including 
its scheme, its publication, and the proof which God has af- 
forded us of its truth ; that the particular parts principally 
objected against in this whole dispensation, are analogous to 
what is experienced in the constitution and course of Nature, 
or Providence ; that the chief objections themselves, which 
are alleged against the former, ai^e no other than what may 
be alleged with like justness against the latter, where they 
are found in fact to be inconclusive ; and that this argument^ 
from analogy, is in general unanswerable, and undoubtedly^ 

*Ch.i. TCh.u. $Ch.iii. 

§Ch. iv. ilCh. V. ^Ch vL 

♦* Ch. vii f r Part II, ch. i. ttCh.u. 

§§Ch.iii. llllCh.iv. nrirCh.v. * ♦ ♦ Ch. vi. vil 



INTRODUCTION. 



113 



of weight on the side of religion,^ notwithstanding the ob- 
jections which may seem to he against it, and the real 
ground which there may be for difference of opinion as to 
the particular degree of weight which is to be laid upon it. 
This is a general account of what may be looked for in the 
following Treatise. And I shall begin it with that which is 
the foundation of all our hopes, and of all our fears — all our 
hopes and fears, which are of any consideration — I meaii, 
a future life. 

♦ Ch. \Til 



THE 
ANALOGY 

OF 

RELIGION 

TO THE 

CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. 



PART I. 
OF NATURAL RELIGION. 



CHAP. 1. 
Of a Future Life, 

Strange difficulties have been raised by some concern- 
ing personal identity, or the sameness of living agents, im- 
plied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or in 
any two successive moments ; which whoever thinks it 
worth while, may see considered, in the first Dissertation at 
the end of this Treatise. But, without regard to any of 
them here, let us consider what the analogy of Nature, and 
the several changes which we have undergone, and those 
which we know we may undergo without being destroyed, 
suggest, as to the effect which death may, or may not, 
have upon us ; and whether it be not from thence probable, 
that we may survive this change, and exist in a future state 
of life and perception. 

I. From our being born into the present world in the help- 
less imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived from 
thence to mature age, we find it to be a general law of nature 
in our own species, that the same creatures, the same 



116 



OF A FUTURE LIFE, 



[part I. 



individuals, should exist in degrees of life and perception, 
witli capacities of action, of enjojnuent, and suffering, in 
one period of their being, greatly different from those ap- 
pointed them in another period of it. And in other creatures 
the same law holds. For the difference of their capacities 
and states of life at their birth (to go no higher) and in ma- 
turity ; the change of worms into flies, and the vast enlarge- 
ment of their locomotive powers by such change ; and birds 
and insects bursting the shell, their habitation, and by this 
means entering into a new world, furnished with new ac- 
commodations for them ; and finding a new sphere of action 
assigned them ; — these are instances of this general law of 
nature. Thus, all the various and wonderful transforma- 
tions of animals are to be taken into consideration here. 
But the states of life in which we ourselves existed for- 
merly, in the womb and in our infancy, are almost as differ- 
ent fi'om our present, in mature age, as it is possible to 
conceive any two states or degrees of life can be. There- 
fore, that we are to exist hereafter in a state as different 
(suppose) from our present, as this is from our former, is but 
according to the analogy of nature ; according to a natural 
order or appointment, of the very same kind with what we 
have already experienced. 

II. We know we are endued with capacities of action, of 
happiness, and misery ; for we are conscious of acting, of 
enjoying pleasure, and suffering pain. Now, that we have 
these powers and capacities before death, is a presumption 
that we shall retain them through and after death ; indeed, 
a probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless 
there be some positive reason to think that death is the de- 
struction of those living powers ; because there is in every 
case a probability, that all things will continue as we expe- 
rience they are, in all respects, except those in which we 
have some reason to think they will be altered. This is 
that kind"^ of presumption, or probability, from analogy, 
expressed in the very word continuance, which seems our 
only natural reason for believing the course of the world will 
continue to-morrow, as it has done so far as our experience 
or knowledge of history can carry us back. Nay, it seems 
our only reason for believing, that any one substance, now 

* I say kind of presumption or probability ; for 1 do not mean to affirm, 
that there is the same degree of conviction that our living powers will con- 
tinue after death, as there is, that our substances will 



CHAP. I.] 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



Ii7 



existing^ will continue to exist a moment longer ; the self- 
existent substance only excepted. Thus, if men were as- 
sured that the unknown event, death, was not the destruc- 
tion of our faculties of perception and of action, there would 
be no apprehension that any other power or event, uncon- 
nected with this of death, would destroy these faculties just 
at the mstant of each creature's death ; and therefore no 
doubt but that they would remain after it : which shows 
the high probability that our living powers will continue 
after death, unless there be some ground to think that death 
is their destruction. * For, if it would be in a manner certain 
that we should survive death, provided it were certain that 
death would not be our destruction, it must be liighly proba- 
ble we shall survive it, if there be no ground to think death 
will be our destruction. 

Now, though I think it must be acknowledged, that prior 
to the natural and moral proofs of a future life commonly 
insisted upon, there would arise a general confused suspi- 
cion, that, in the great shock and alteration which we shall 
undergo by death, we, i. e. our living powers, might be 
wholly destroyed ; yet even prior to those proofs, there is 
really no particular distinct ground, or reason, for this appre- 
hension at all, so far as I can find. If there be, it must 
arise either from the reason of ike things or from the analogy 
of JVaiure. 

But we cannot argue from ike reason of the things that 
death is the destruction of living agents, because we know 
not at all what death is in itself; but only some of its effects, 
such as the dissolution of flesh, skin, and bones : and these 
effects do in no wise appear to imply the destruction of a 
li\dng agent. And, besides, as w^e are greatly in the dark 
upon what the exercise of our Hving powders depends, so we 
are wholly ignorant what the powders themselves depend 
upon; the powers themselves, as distinguished, not only 

* Destruction of living powers, is a manner of expression unavoidably 
ambiguous ; and may signify either the destruction of a living being, so 
as that the same living being shall be incapable of ever perceiving or 
acting again at all; or the destruction of those means and instruments 
by ichich it is capable of its present life, of its present state of perception 
and of action. It is here used in the former sense. When it is used in the 
latter, the epithet present is added. The loss of a man's eye is a destruction 
of Hving powers in the latter sense. But we have no reason to think the de- 
struction of living powers, in the former sense, to be possible. "VVe have 
more reason to think a being, endued with Uving powers, ever loses thert 
during its whole existence, than to believe that a stone ever acquires them. 



118 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



[chap. I. 



from their actual exercise, but also from the present capaci- 
ty of exercising them ; and opposed to their destruction ; 
for sleep, or, however, a swoon, shows as, not only that 
these powers exist when they are not exercised, as the 
passive power of motion does in inanimate matter ; but 
shows also that they exist, when there is no present capa- 
city of exercising them ; or that the capacities of exercising 
them for the present, as well as the actual exercise of them, 
may be suspended, and yet the powers themselves remain 
undestroyed. Since, then, we know not at all upon what 
the existence of our living powers depends, this shows fur- 
ther, there can no probability be collected from the reason 
of the thing, that death will be their destruction : because 
their existence may depend upon somewhat in no degree 
affected by death ; upon somewhat quite out of the reach of 
this king of terrors. So that there is nothing more certain, 
than that the reason of the thing shows us no connexion 
between death and the destruction of HWng agents. Nor 
can we find an}^ tiling throughout the whole analogy of 
JVaturc, to afford us even the slightest presumption, that 
animals ever lose their living powers ; much less, if it were 
possible, that they lose them by death ; for we have no 
faculties wherewdth to trace any bej^ond or through it, so as 
to see what becomes of them. This event removes them 
from our \dew. It destroj's the sensible proof, which we had 
before their death, of theh being possessed of lining powers, 
but does not appear to afford the least reason to believe, 
that they are then, or by that event, deprived of them. 

And our knowing, that they were possessed of these 
powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties 
capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their retain- 
ing them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a sensible 
credibiHty is given to it, by observing the very great and 
astonishing changes which we have experienced ; so great, 
that our existence in another state of life, of perception and 
of action, will be but according to a method of providential 
conduct, the like to which has been already exercised, even 
with regard to ourselves ; according to a course of nature, 
the like to wliich we have already gone through. 

However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how 
difficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the 
voice of reason even distinctly heard in tliis case ; as we ai'e 
accustomed, fi'om our j^outh up, to indulge that forward 
delusive facult3^ ever obtruding beyond its sphere ; of some 



PART I.] 



OP A FUTURE LIFE. 



119 



assistance, indeed, to apprehension, but the author of all 
error : as we plainly lose ourselves in gross and crude con- 
ceptions of things, taking for granted that we are acquaint- 
ed with what indeed we are wholly ignorant of; it may be 
proper to consider the imaginary presumptions, that death 
will be our destruction, arising from these kinds of early a.nd 
lasting prejudices ; and to show how little they can really 
amount to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves 
of them. And 

I. All presumption of death's being the destruction of liv- 
ing beings, must go upon supposition that they are com- 
pounded, and so discerptible. But, since consciousness is a 
single and individual power, it should seem that the subject 
in which it resides, must be so too. For, were the motion 
of any particle of matter absolutely one and indivisible, so as 
that it should imply a contradiction to suppose part of this 
motion to exist, and part not to exist i. e. part of this matter 
to move, and part to be at rest ; then its power of motion 
would be indivisible ; and so also would the subject in which 
the power inheres, nam.ely, the particle of matter : for, if 
this could be divided into tv/o, one part might be moved and 
the other at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In 
like manner, it has been argued, * and, for any thing ap- 
pealing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception, or 
consciousness, which we have of our own existence is indi- 
visible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose one part of 
it should be here and the other there ; the perceptive power, 
or the power of consciousness, is indivisible too ; and, conse- 
quently, the subject in which it resides, i. e. the conscious 
being. Now, upon supposition that living agent each man 
calls himself, is thus a single being, which there is at least 
no more difficulty in conceiving than in conceiving it to be a 
compound, and of which there is the proof now mentioned ; 
it follows, that our organized bodies are no more ourselves, 
or part of ourselves, than any other matter around us. And 
it is as easy to conceive how matter, which is no part of 
ourselves, may be appropriated to us in the manner which 
our present bodies are, as how we can receive impressions 
from, and have power over any matter. It is as easy to 
conceive, that we may exist out of bodies, as in them ; that 
we might have animated bodies of any other organs and 
senses wholly different from these now given us, and tnat 



♦ See Dr Clarke's Letter to Mr Dodwell, and the Defences of it. 



120 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



[chap. I. 



we may nereafter animate these same or new bodies van- 
cnsly modified and organized, as to conceive how we can 
animate such bodies as our present. And, lastly, the disso- 
lution of all these several organized bodies, supposing our- 
selves to have successively animated them, would have no 
more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings, our- 
selves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties of per- 
ception and of action, than the dissolution of any foreign 
matter, which we are capable of receiving impressions from, 
and making use of for the common occasions of life. 

11. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living agent 
cannot, indeed, from the nature of the thing, be properly 
proved by experimental observations. But as these fall 
in with the supposition of its unit3^ so they plainly lead us 
to conclude certainly, that our gross organized bodies, with 
which we perceive the objects of sense, and with which we 
act, are no part of ourselves, and therefore show us, that 
we have no reason to believe their destruction to be ours ; 
even without determining whether our living substances be 
material or immaterial. For we see by experience, that 
men may lose their limbs, their organs of sense, and even 
the greatest part of these bodies, and yet remain the same 
living agents : And persons can trace up the existence of 
themselves to a time when the bulk of their bodies was ex- 
tremely small, in comparison of what it is in mature age ; 
and we cannot but think, that they might then have lost a 
considerable part of that small body, and yet have rem.amed 
the same living agents, as they may now lose great part of 
their present body, and remain so. And it is certain, that 
the bodies of all animals are in a constant flux, from that 
never ceasing attrition wliich there is in every part of them. 
Now, things of this kind unavoidably teach us to distinguish 
between these living agents, ourselves, and large quantities 
of matter, in which we are very nearly interested : since 
these may be alienated, and actually are in a daily course 
of succession, and chetnging their owners ; whilst we are 
assured, that each living agent remains one and the same 
permanent being * And this general observation leads us 
on to the following ones. 

Firstj That we have no way of determining by expe- 
rience, what is the certain bulk of the living being each 
man calls himself ; and yet, till it be determined that it i» 



♦ See Dissertation I. 



CHAP. I.J 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



121 



larger in bulk than the solid elementarj^ particles of matter, 
which there is no ground to think any natural power can 
dissolve, there is no sort of reason to think death to be the 
dissolution of it, of the living being, even though it should 
not be absolute^ indiscerptible. 

Secondly^ From our being so nearly related to, and inter- 
ested in certain systems of matter, suppose our flesh and 
bones, afterwards ceasing to be at all related to them, the 
living agents, ourselves, remaining all this while undestr ey- 
ed, notwithstanding such alienations : and consequently 
these systems of matter not being ourselves ; it follows iiir- 
ther, that we have no ground to conclude any other, suppose 
internal systems of matter, to be the living agents ourselves ; 
because we can have no ground to conclude this, but from 
our relation to, and interest in such other systems of matter : 
and, therefore, we can have no reason to conclude, what 
befalls those systems of matter at death, to be the destruction 
of the living agents. We have already, several times over, 
lost a great part, or perhaps the whole of our bodj/, accord- 
ing to certain common established laws of nature ; yet we 
remain the same living agents : when we shall lose as great 
a part, or the whole, by another common established law of 
nature, death, why may we not also remain the same % 
That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the 
other will be more at once, does not prove any thing to the 
contrary. We have passed undestroyed through those 
many and great revolutions of matter, so peculiarly appro- 
priated to ourselves ; why should we imagine death would 
be so fatal to us ? Nor can it be objected, that what is thus 
alienated, or lost, is no part of our original solid body, but 
only adventitious matter ; because we may lose entire limbs, 
which must have contained many solid parts and vessels of 
the original body : or if this be not admitted, we have no 
proof that any of these solid parts are dissolved or alienated 
by death ; though, by the way, we are very nearly related 
to that extraneous or adventitious matter, whilst it continues 
united to and distending the several parts of our solid body 
But, after all, the relation a person bears to those parts of 
his body to v/hich he is the most nearly related, what does 
it appear to amount to but this, that the living agent and 
those parts of the body mutually affect each other 1 And 
the same thing, the same thing in kind, though not in de- 
gree, may be said of all foreign matter, which gives us 
ideas, and wliich we have any power over. From these 



122 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART U 

observations the whole ground of the imagination is remov- 
edj that the dissolution of any matter is the destruction of 
a living agent, from the interest he once had in such matter. 

Thirdly^ If we consider our body somewhat more distinct- 
ly, as made up of organs and instruments of perception and 
of motion, it will bring us to the same conclusion. Thus, 
the common optical experiments show, and even the obser- 
vation how sight is assisted by glasses shows, that we see 
wi*h our eyes in the same sense as we see with glasses. 
Nor is there any reason to believe, that we see with them in 
any other sense ; any other, I mean, which would lead us 
to think the eye itself a percipient. The like is to be said 
of hearing : and our feeling distant solid matter by means 
of somewhat in our hand, seems an instance of the like kind, 
as to the subject we are considering. All these are instances 
of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our bodj', being 
instrumental in preparing objects for, and conveying them to 
the perceiving power, in a manner similar, or like to the 
manner in which our organs of sense prepare and convey 
them. Both are, in a like way, instruments of our receiv- 
ing such ideas from external objects, as the Author of na- 
ture appointed those external objects to be the occasions of 
exciting in us. However, glasses are evidently instances 
of this ; namely, of matter, which is no part of our body, pre- 
paring objects for, and convejdng them towards the perceiv- 
ing power, in like manner as our bodily organs do. And if 
we see with our eyes only in the same manner as we do with 
glasses, the Hke may justly be concluded from analogy, of 
all our other senses. It is not intended, by any thing here 
said, to affirm, that the whole apparatus of vision, or of per- 
ception by any other of our senses, can be traced, through 
all its steps, quite up to the living power of seeing, or per- 
ceiving ; but that, so far as it can be traced by experimental 
observations, so far it appears, that our organs of sense pre- 
pare and convey on objects, in order to their being perceived, 
in like manner as foreign matter does, without affording any 
shaiow of appearance, that they themselves perceive. And 
that we have no reason to think our organs of sense perci- 
Dients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some of 
them, the living beings themselves, their former occupiers, 
remaining unimpaired. It is confirmed also by the experi- 
ence of dreams ; by which we find we are at present pos- 
sessed of a latent, and what would otherwise be an unima- 
gined unknown power of perceiving sensible objects, in as 



CUAP. I.] 



OF A FUTURE LIFE, 



123 



strong and lively a manner without our external organs of 
sense, as with them. 

So also with regard to our power, of moving, or directing 
motion by will and choice : upon the destruction of a limb, 
this active power remains, as it evidently seems, unlessened ; 
so as that the li^dng being, who has suffered this loss, would 
be capable of movmg as before, if it had another limb to 
move with. It can walk by the help of an artificial leg, 
just as it can make use of a pole or a lever, to reach towards 
itself and to move things beyond the length and the power 
of its natural arm : and this last it does in the same manner 
as it reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer 
and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any appear- 
ance of our limbs being endued with a power of moving or 
directing themselves ; though they are adapted, like the se- 
veral parts of a machine, to be the instruments of motion to 
each other ; and some parts of the same limb, to be instru- 
ments of motion to the other parts of it. 

Thus, a man determines thai he will look at such an ob- 
ject through a microscope ; or, being lame suppose, that he 
will walk to such a place with a staff a week hence. His 
eyes and his feet no more determine in these cases, than the 
microscope and the staff. Nor is there any ground to think 
they any more put the determination in the practice, or that 
his eyes are the seers, or his feet the m^overs, in any other 
sense than as the microscope and the staff are. Upon the 
whole, then, our organs of sense and our limbs are certainly 
instruments, which the living persons, ourselves, make use 
of to perceive and move with. There is not any probability, 
that they are any more ; nor, consequently, that we have 
any other kind of relation to them, than what we may have 
to any other foreign m.atter formed into instruments of per- 
ception and motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff* (I 
say, any other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of the 
degree of it ; nor, consequentl}^, is there any probability^ 
that the alienation or dissolution of these instruments is the 
destruction of the perceiving and moving agent. 

And thus our findmg, that the dissolution of matter m 
which living beings were most nearly interested, is not their 
dissolution ; and that the destruction of several of the or- 
gans and instruments of perception and of motion belong- 
ing to them, is not their destruction ; shows, demonstrative- 
ly, that there is no ground to think, that the dissolution 
of any other matter or destruction of ajiy other organ* 



124 



OF A FJTURE LIFE. 



[part I. 



and instruments, will be the dissolution or destruction 
of living agents, from the like kind of relation. And we 
have no reason to think \vq stand in any other kind of 
relation to anj thing which we find dissolved by death. 

But it is said, these observations are equally applicable to 
brutes : and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that 
they should be immortal, and, by consequence, capable of 
everlasting happiness. Now, this manner of expression is 
toth invidious and weak : but the thing intended by it, is 
really no difficulty at aU, either in the way of natm'al or 
moral consideration. For, 1st, Suppose the invidious thing, 
designed in such a manner of expression, were really im- 
phed, as it is not in the least, in the natural immortality of 
brutes ; namely, that they must arrive at great attainments, 
and become rational and moral agents ; even this would be 
no difficulty, since we know not what latent powers and 
capacities the}' may be endued with. There was once, pri- 
or to experience, as great presumption against human crea- 
tm*es, as there is against the brute creatures, arriving at 
that degree of understanding which we have in mature age ; 
for we can trace up our own exist ance to the same origmal 
with theirs. And we find it to be a general law of nature, 
that creatures endued with capacities of virtue and religion, 
should be placed in a condition of being, in which thej^ are 
altogether without the use of them for a considerable length 
of their duration, as in infanc}' and cliildhood. And great 
part of the human species go out of the present world, be= 
fore they come to the exercise of these capacities in any de- 
gree at all. But then, 2dly. The natural immortahty of 
brutes does not in the least imph", that they are endued with 
any latent capacities of a rational or moral nature. And 
the economy of the universe might require, that there should 
be lining creatures without any capacities of this kind. 
And all difficulties, as to the manner how they are to be dis- 
posed of, are so apparently and wholly founded on our igno- 
rance, that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon by any, 
but such as are weak enough to think the}^ are acquainted 
with the whole sj^stem of thmgs. There is, then, absolute- 
ly nothing at all in this objection, which is so rhetorically 
urged against the greatest part of the natural proofs or pre- 
smnptions of the immortality of human minds : I say the 
greatest part ; for it is less applicable to the following ob- 
servation, which is more pecuhar to mankind : — 

III. That as it is evident our present powers and capaci- 



CHAP. I.] 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



125 



ties of reason, memory, and affection, do not depend upon 
our gross body, in tiie manner in which perception by our 
organs of sense does ; so they do not appear to depend upon 
it at all in any such manner, as to give ground to think, that 
the dissolution of this body will be the destruction of these 
our present powers of reflection, as it will of our powers of 
sensation ; or to give ground to conclude, even that it will 
be so much as a suspension of the former. 

Human creatures exist at present in two states of life 
and perception, greatly different from each other ; each of 
which has its own peculiar laws, and its o wn peculiar en- 
jo3^ments and sufferings. When any of our senses are 
affected, or appetites gratified with the objects of them, we 
may be said to exist, or live, in a state of sensation. When 
none of our senses are affected, or appetites gratified, and 
yet we perceive, and reason, and act, w^ may be said to ex- 
ist, or live, in a state of reflection. Now it is by no means 
certain, that any thing which is dissolved by death is any 
way necessary to the living being, in this its state of reflec- 
tion, after ideas are gained. For though, from our present 
constitution and condition . of being, our external organs of 
sense are necessary for convej'ing in ideas to our reflecting 
powers, as carriages, and levers, and scaffolds are in archi- 
tecture ; yet, when these ideas are brought in, we are capa- 
ble of reflecting in the most intense degree, and of enjoj-ing 
the greatest pleasure, and feeling the greatest pain, by 
means of that reflection, without any assistance from our 
senses ; and without any at all. which we know of, fi'om 
that body, which ^\ull be dissolved by death. It does not 
appear, then, that the relation of this gross body to the re- 
flecting being, is in any degree^ necessary to thinking ; to 
our intellectual enjo3axLents or sufferings : nor, consequentlyj 
that the dissolution, or ahenation of the former by death, will 
be the destruction of those present powers, which render us 
capable of this state of reflection. Further, there are in- 
stances of- moral diseases, which do not at all affect our 
present intellectual powers ; and this affords a presumption, 
that those diseases will not destro}^ these present powers. 
Indeed, from the observations made above,* it appears, that 
there is no presumption, fl'om their mutually affecting each 
other, that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of 



♦ Pages 74, 75, 76, 



126 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



[part I. 



the Ihdng agent. And by the same reasoning it must ap- 
pear, too, that there is no presnmptionj from their mutually 
affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is the 
destruction of our present reflecting powers ; but instances 
of their not affecting each other, afford a presumption of the 
contrary. Instances of mortal disease not impairing our 
present reflecting powers, evidently turn our thoughts even 
from imagining such diseases to be the destruction of them. 
Several things, indeed, greatly affect all our hving powers, 
anvi at length, suspend the exercise of them ; as, for in- 
stance, drowsiness, increasing till it ends in sound sleep : 
and from hence we might have imagined it would destroy 
them, till we found, by experience, the weakness of this way 
of judging. But, in the diseases now mentioned, there is not 
so much as the shadow of probability, to lead us to any 
such conclusion, as.to the reflecting powers which we have 
at present ; for, in those diseases, persons the moment before 
death appear to be in the highest vigor of life. They dis- 
cover apprehension, memory, reason, all entne ; with the 
utmost force of affection ; sense of a character, of shame 
and honor ; and the highest mental enjoyments and suffer- 
ings, even to the last gasp : and these surely prove even 
greater vigor of life than bodily strength does. Now, what 
pretence is there for thinking, that a progressive disease, 
when arrived to such a degree, I mean that degree which 
is mortal, will destroy those powers, which were not impair- 
ed, which were not affected by it, during its whole progress, 
quite up to that degree 1 And if death, by diseases of this 
kind, is not the destruction of our present reflecting powers, 
it will scarce be thought that death by any other means is. 

It is obvious that this general observation may be carried 
on further : and there appears so Httle connexion between 
our bodily powers of sensation, and our present povv ers of 
reflection, that there is no reason to conclude that death, 
which destroys the former, does so much as suspend the 
exercise of the latter, or interrupt our continuing to exist in 
the hke state of reflection which we do now. For, suspen- 
sion of reason, memoiy, and the affections which they ex- 
cite, is no part of the idea of death, nor is implied in our 
notion of it. And our daily experiencino!' these powers to be 
exercised, without any assistance, that we know of, from 
those bodies which will be dissolved by death ; and our find- 
ing often, that the exercise of them is so hvely to the last ; — 
these things afford a sensiVie apprehension, that death may 



CHAP. I.] 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



127 



not perhaps be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise 
of these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which 
it implies;* so that our posthumous life, whatever there may 
be in it additional to oui present, 3'et may not be entii'ely be- 
ginning anew, but going on. Death may, in some sort, and 
in some respects, answer to our birth, which is not a sus- 
pension of the faculties which we had before it, or a total 
change of the state of life in which we existed when in the 
womb, but a continuation of both, with such and such great 
alterations. 

Na}^, for ought Vv'e know of ourselves, of our present life, 
and of death, death may immediateh'. m the natural course 
of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged state of 
life, as our birth does :t a state in which our capacities and 
sphere of perception, and of action, may be much greater 
than at present. For, as our relation to our external organs 
of sense renders us capable of existing in our present state 
of sensation, so it may be the only natural hindrance to our 
existing, immediately and of coarse, in a higher state of re- 
flection. The truth is, reason does not at all show us in 
what state death natural!}" leaves us. But were we sure 
that it would suspend all our perceptive and active powers, 
yet the suspension of a power, and the destruction of it, are 
effects so totally different in knid, as we experience from 
sleep and a swoon, that we cannot in any wise argue from 
one to the other ; or conclude, even to the lowest degree of 
probability, that the same kind of force which is sufficient to 
suspend our faculties, though it be increased ever so much, 
will be sufficient to destro}" them. 

These observations together may be sufficient to show, 
how^ little presumption there is that death is the destruction 

* There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here con- 
sidered : Whether death be the destruction of living agents ?- If not, 
Whether it be the destruction of their present powers of reflection, as it 
certainly is the destruction of their present powers of sensadon ?- And if 
not, Whetlrer it be the suspension, or discontinuance of the exercise, of 
these present reflecting powers ? 2s ow, if there be no reason to believe 
the last, there will be, if that were possible, less for the next, and less still 
for the first. 

T This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brahmans : vo^l- 
^£iu fisv yap St] tov jxev evdacs iSlov-'jo^ av aKurjv kvolisvcov eivai' rov ce Oavarov^ 
yevecis eig rov ovrcog 0lov, Kai rov evcai^ova tol; (^iSo(jO(pr]GacL. Lib. XV". p. 
1039. Ed. Amst. 1707. To which opinion perhaps Antoninus may 
allude in these words, w j vw r.cpineveig, ttots tjifSpvov ck 77/7? yaarpos rrj; 
yvi>aLKOS o-if €^c\6rj, urois tKcz)(^ecBaL rriv copav sv t} to ipv^aciov cH rv sXvrpa 
rvTV airsjcirai. Lib. IX. G. 3. 



128 



OF A FUTURE LIFE. 



[part I. 



of human creatures. However, there is the shadow of an 
analogy, which may lead us to imagine it is ; the supposed 
likeness which is observed between the decay of vegetables 
and of living creatures. And this hkeness is indeed suffi- 
cient to afford the poets very apt allusions to the flowers of 
the field; in their pictures of the fi'ailty of om* present life. 
But J m reason, the analogy is so fai* from holding, that there 
appears no ground even for the comparison, as to the present 
question ; because one of the two subjects compared is 
wholly void of that, wliich is the principle and chief thing in 
the other, the power of perception and action : and which is 
the only thing we are inquiring about the contmuance of 
So that the destruction of a vegetable is an event not simi- 
lar, or analogous, to the destruction of a living agent. 

But if, as was above intimated, leaving oif the delusive 
custom of substituting imagination m the room of experi- 
ence, we would confine ourselves to what we do know and 
understand : if we would argue onlj- from that, and from 
that form om* expectations, it would appear, at first sight, 
that as no probability of lining beings ever ceasing to be so, 
can be concluded fi'om the reason of the thing : so none 
can be collected fi-om the analogy of nature : because we 
cannot trace any h\ing beings beyond death. But as we 
are conscious that we ai*e endued \viih capacities of percep- 
tion and of action, and are hving persons, what we are to 
go upon is, that we shall continue so till we foresee some 
accident, or event, which will endanger those capacities, or 
be likely to destroy us ; which death does in no ^\ise appear 
to be. 

And thus, when we go out of this world, we may pass 
into new scences, and a new state of life and action, just as 
naturalh' as we came into the present. And this new state 
may naturally be a social one. And the advantages of it, ad- 
vantages of every kind.maj^ naturally be bestowed, according 
to some fixed general laws of u-isdom, upon every one in pro- 
portion to the degrees of his virtue. And though the advanta- 
ges of that future natm'al state should not be bestowed, as these 
of the present in some measure are, by the will of the society, 
but entirely hy his more immediate action, upon whom the 
whole fi'ame of nature depends, yet this distribution may be 
just as natural, as theii' being distributed here by the instru- 
mentaht}' of men. And, indeed, though one were to allow 
any confused undetermined sense, which people please to put 
upon the word naiival^ it would be a shortness of thought 



ClUi\ I.J 



OP A FUTURE LIFE. 



129 



scarce credible to imagine, that no system or course of things 
can be so, but only what we see at present ;^ especially 
wliilst the probability of a future life, or the natural immor- 
tality of the soul, is admitted upon the evidence of reason ; 
because this is really both admitting and denying at once, a 
state of being different from the present to be natural. But 
the only distinct meaning of that word is, stated^ fixed^ or set- 
tled; since what is natural as much requires, and presuppo- 
ses an inteUigent agent to render it so, i. e. to effect it con- 
tinually, or at stated times, as what is supernatural or mi- 
raculous does to effect it for once. And from hence it must 
follow, that persons' notion of Avhat is natural will be enlar- 
ged, in proportion to their greater knowledge of the works of 
God and the dispensations of his Providence. Nor is there 
any absurdity in supposing, that there may be beings in the 
universe, v\'hose capacities, and knowledge, and views, may 
be so extensive, as that the whole Christian dispensation may 
to them appear natural, i. e. analogous or conformable to 
God's dealings with other parts of his creation, as natural as 
the visible known course of things appears to us. For there 
seems scarce any other possible sense to be put upon the 
word, but that only in which it is here used ; similar, stated, 
or uniform. 

This credibihty of a future life, which has been here in- 
sisted upon, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity, 
seems to answer all the purposes of religion, in like manner 
as a demonstrative proof would. Indeed, a proof, even a de- 
monstrative one, of a future life, would not be a proof of reli- 
gion. For, that we are to live hereafter, is just as reconcilia.- 
ble with the scheme of atheism, and as well to be accounted 
for by it, as that we are now alive is ; and therefore nothing 
can be more absurd than to argue from that scheme, that 
there can be no future state. But as rehgion implies a fu- 
ture state, any presumption against such a state is a pre- 
sumption against religion. And the foregoing observations 
remove aJl presumptions of that sort, and prove, to a 
considerable degree of probability, one fundamental doctrine 
of rehgion ; which if beheved, would greatly open and dis- 
pose the mind seriouslj^ to attend to the general evidence cf 
the Yihole. 



* See Part ii. eh. 2. and Part ii. ch. 3. 



130 



OF THE GOVERNMENT OP GOD [PATIT f 



CHAPTER 11. 

Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments ; 

and particularly of the latter. 

That which makes the question concerning a futm*e life 
to be of so great importance to us, is oiu capacity of happi- 
ness and misery. And that which makes the consideration 
of it to be of so great importance to us, is the supposition of 
our happiness and misery hereafter, depending upon our ac- 
tions here. Without this, indeed, curiosity could not but 
sometimes bring a subject, in which we may be so highly 
interested, to our thoughts ; especially upon the mortalit}' 
of others, or the near prospect of our own. But reasonable 
men would not take any farther thought about hereafter, 
than what should happen thus occasionally to rise in their 
minds, if it were certain that our future interest no way de- 
pend upon our present behaviour ; whereas, on the contrary, 
if there be ground, either from analogy or any thing else, to 
think it does, then there is reason also for the most active 
thought and solicitude to seciue that interest ; to behave so 
as that we may escape that misery, and obtain that happi- 
ness in another life, which we not onlj^ suppose ourselves 
capable of, but which we apprehend also is put in our own 
power. And whether there be ground for this last appre- 
hension, certainly would deserve to be most seriously consi- 
dered, were there no other proof of a future life, and interest, 
than that presumptive one which the foregoing observations 
amount to. 

Now, in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a great 
part of what we suffer, is put in our oivn poiuer. For plea- 
sure and pain are the consequences of our actions ; and we 
are endued by the Author of our nature with capacities of 
foreseeing these consequences. We find, by experience, he 
does not so much as preserve our lives exclusively of our own 
care and attention to provide ourselves with, and to make 



CHAP. Il] by rewards AND PUNISHMENTS. 



131 



use of, that sustenance, by which he has appointed our lives 
shall be preserved, and without which he has appointed they 
shall not be preserved at all. And in general e foresee, that 
the external things, which are the objects of our various pas- 
sions, can neither be obtained nor enjoj'ed, without exerting 
ourselves in such and such manners ; but by thus exerting 
ourselves, we obtain and enjoy, these objects, in which our 
natural good consists, or by this means God gives us the pos- 
session and enjoyment of them. I know not that we have 
any one kind or degree of enjoyment, but by the means of 
our own actions. And by prudence and care, we may, for 
the most part, pass our days in tolerable ease and quiet : or, 
on the contrary, we may, by rashness, ungoverned passion, 
wilfulness, or even by negligence, make ourselves as misera- 
ble as ever we please. And many do please to make them- 
selves extremely miserable, i. e. to do what they know be- 
forehand will render them so. They follow those ways, the 
fruit of which they know, by instruction, example, experi- 
ence, will be disgrace, and, poverty, and sickness, and 
untimely death. This every one observes to be the general 
course of things ; though it is to be allowed, we cannot find 
by experience, that all our sufferings are owing to our ow^n 
follies. 

Why the Author of Nature does not give his creatures 
promiscuously such and such perceptions, without regard to 
their behaviour ; why he does not make them happy with- 
out the instrumentality of their own actions, and prevent 
their bringing any sufferings upon themselves, is another 
matter. Perhaps there may be some impossibilities in the 
nature of things, which we are unacquainted with ;^ Or less 
happiness, it may be, would, upon the whole, be produced 
by such a method of conduct, than is by the present : Or, 
perhaps, divine goodness, with which, if I mistake not, we 
make very free in our speculations, may not be a bare single 
disposition to produce happiness ; but a disposition to make 
the good, the faithful, the honest man, happy. Perhaps an 
infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with seeing his crea- 
tures behave suitably to the nature which he has given them ; 
to the relations which he has placed them in to each other ; 
and to that which the}' stand in to himself ; that relation to 
him.self, which, during their existence, is even necessary, and 
wliich is the most important one of ail. Perhaps, I say, 



* Part i. chap. 7 



132 



OP THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I- 



infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with this moral piety 
of moral agents, in and for itself, as well as upon account of 
its being essentially conducive to the happiness of his crea- 
tion. Or the whole end, for which God m_ade, and thus go- 
verns the world, may be utterly beyond the reach of our fa- 
culties : There may be somewhat in it as impossible for us 
to have any conception of, as for a blind man to have a con- 
ception of colors. But however this be, it is certain matter 
of universal experience, that the general method of divine ad- 
ministration is, forewarning us, or giving us capacities to fore- 
see, with more or less clearness, that if we act so and so, we 
shall have such enjoyments, if so and so, such sufferings; and 
giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel those suffer- 
ings, in consequence of our actions. 

^ But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of na- 
ture.^ True. This is the very thing which 1 am observ- 
ing. It is to be ascribed to the general course of nature ; 
i. e. not surely to the words, or ideas, Course of nature^ bu" 
to him who appointed it, and put things into it ; or to a 
course of operation, from its uniformity or consistency, call- 
ed natural,* and which necessarily implies an operating 
agent. For when men find themselves necessitated to con- 
fess an Author of Nature, or that God is the natural gove- 
nor of the world, they must not deny this again, because 
his government is uniform ; they must not deny that be 
does all things at all, because he does them constantly ; be- 
cause the effects of his acting are permanent, whether his 
acting be so or not ; though there is no reason to think it is 
not. In short, every man, in every thing he does, naturally 
acts upon the forethought and apprehension of avoiding 
evil, or obtaining good : and if the natural course of things 
be the appointment of God, and our natural faculties of 
knowledge and experience are given us by him, then the 
good and bad consequences which follow our actions are his 
appointment, and our foresight of those consequences is a 
warning given us by him, how we are to act. 

'Is the pleasure, then, naturally accompanying every parti- 
cular gratification of passion, intended to put us upon gra- 
tifjdng ourselves in every such particular instance, and as a 
reward to us for so doing V No, certainly. Nor is it to be 
said, that our eyes were naturally intended to give us the 
sight of each particular object to which they do or can ex- 



» Pages 83, 84. 



CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS, 



133 



tend; objects which are destructive of thenij or which, for any 
other reason, it may become us to turn our eyes from. Ye» 
there is no doubt, but that oar eyes were intended for us tc 
see with. So neither is there any doubt, but that the foreseeri 
pleasures and pains, belonging to the passions, w^ere inten- 
ded, in general, to induce mankind to act in such and sn^h 
manners. 

Now, from this general observation, obvious to every one, 
that God has given us to understand he has appointed satis- 
faction and delight to be the consequence of our acting in 
one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in an- 
other, and of our not acting at all ; and that we fold the 
consequences, which we were beforehand informed of, uni- 
formly to follow ; we may learn, that we are at present ac- 
tually under his government, in the strictest and most pro- 
per sense ; in such a sense, as that he rewards and punish- 
es us for our actions. An Author of Nature being suppo- 
sed, it is not so much a deduction of reason as a matter of 
experience, that we are thus under his government : under 
his government, in the same sense as we are under the go- 
vernment of civil magistrates. Because the annexing plea- 
sure to som^e actions, and pain to others, in our power to do 
or forbear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand 
to those whom it concerns, is the proper formal notion of go- 
vernment. Whether the pleasure or pain which thus fol- 
lows upon our behaviour, be ov^'ing to the Author of Na- 
ture's acting upon us every moment which ^ve feel it, or to 
his having at once contrived and executed his own part in 
the plan of the world, makes no alteration as to the matter be- 
fore us. For, if civil magistrates could make the sanction 
of their laws take place, Avithout interposing at all, after 
they had passed them ; without a trial, and the formalities 
of an execution : if they were able to niake their laws exe 
cute them themselves or every offender to execute them 
upon himself, we should be just in the same sense un- 
der their, government then, as we are now; but in a 
much higher degree, and more perfect manner. Vain 
is the ridicule with wliich one foresees some persons will 
divert themselves, upon finding lesser pains considered as 
instances of divine punishment. There is no possibihty of 
answering or evading the general thing here intended, with- 
out denjdng all final causes. For, final causes being admit 
ted, the pleasures and pains now mentioned must be admitted 
too, as instances of them. And if the\' are : if God annex 

12 



134 



OF THE GOVENRNMENT OF GOD [PART I. 



es delight to some actions and uneasiness to others, with an 
apparent design to induce us to act so and so, then he nou 
onl}- dispenses happiness and misery, but also rewards and 
punishes actions. If, for example, the pain which we fee. 
upon doing what tends to the destruction of our bodies, sup- 
pose upon too near approaches to foe, or upon wounding 
ourselves, be appointed bj the Aiuhor of Nature to prevent 
our doing what thus tends to our destruction ; this is alto- 
gether as much an instance of his punishing our actions, 
and consequent^ of our being under his government, as de- 
claring, by a voice from heaven, that if we acted so, he 
would inflict such pain upon us, and inflicting it whether it 
be greater or less. 

Thus we find, that the true notion or conception of the 
Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor, prior to 
the consideration of his moral attributes. The fact of our 
case, which we find by experience, is, that he actually ex- 
ercises dominion or government over us at present, by re- 
wardmg and punishing us for our actions, in as strict and 
proper a sense of these words, and even in the same sense 
as children, servants, subjects, are rewarded and punished b}'' 
those vv'ho govern them. 

And thus the whole analogy of nature, the whole present 
course of things, most fully shows, that there is nothing in- 
credible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will re- 
ward and punish men for their actions hereafter ; nothing 
incredible, I mean, arising out of the notion of rewarding 
and punishing, for the whole course of nature is a present 
instance of his exercising that governm<^nt over us, which 
implies in it rewarding and punishing. 



But, as di\ine punishment is what men chiefly object 
against, and are most unwilling to allow, it may be proper to 
mention some circumstances in the natural course of pun- 
ishments at present, which are analogous to what religion 
teaches us concerning a future state of punishment : indeed 
so analogous, that as they add a further credibility to it, so 
they cannot but raise a most serious apprehension of it in 
those who will attend to them. 



CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 



135 



It has been now observed, that such and such miseries na- 
turally follow such and such actions of imprudence and wil- 
fulness, as well as actions more commonly and more distinct- 
ly considered as vicious ; and that these consequences, when 
they may be foreseen, are properly natural punishments an- 
nexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted 
upon is, not that we see a great deal of misery in the world, 
but a great deal which men bring upon themselves by their 
own behaviour, which they might have foreseen and avoid- 
ed. Now, the circumstances of these natural punishments, 
particularl}^ deserving our attention, are such as these : That 
oftentimes they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of ac- 
tions which procure many present advantages, and are ac- 
companied with much present pleasure ; for instance, sick- 
ness and untimely death is the consequence of intemperance, 
though accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity : 
That these punishments are often much greater than the ad- 
vantages or pleasures obtained by the actions, of which they 
are the punishments or consequences : That though we may 
imagine a constitution of nature, in which these natural pun- 
ishments, which are in fact to follow, would follow immedi- 
ately upon such actions being done, or ver^^ soon after ; we 
find, on the contrary, m our world, that they are often delay- 
ed a great while, sometimes even till long after the actions 
occasioning them are forgot ; so that the constitution of na- 
ture is such, that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree 
of presumption of final impunity : That, after such delay, 
these natural punishments or miseries often come, not by de- 
grees, but suddenly, with violence, and at once ; however, 
the chief misery often does : That, as certainty of such dis- 
tant misery following such actions is never afforded persons, 
so, perhaps, during the actions, they have seldom a distinct 
full expectation of its following and many times the case 
is only thus, that they see in general, or may see, the credi- 
bility that intemperance, suppose, will bring after its diseases; 
civil crimes, civil punishments ; when yet the real probabili- 
ty often is, that they shall escape ; but things notwithstand 
ing take their destined course, and the misery inevitablj^ 
follows at its appointed time, in very many of these cases. 
Thus, also, though youth may be alleged as an excuse foi 
rashness and folly, as being naturally thoughtless, and not 
clearly foreseeing all the consequences of being untractable 



♦ See Part ii. chap. 6. 



136 



OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I. 



ond profligate ; this does not hinder but that these conse- 
quences follow, and are grievously felt throughout the 
whole course of future life. Habits contracted, even in 
tJiat age, are often utter ruin ; and men's success in the 
world, not only in the common sense of worldly success, but 
their real happiness and misery depends, in a great degree, 
and in various ways, upon the manner in which they pass 
their youth ; which consequences they, for the most part, 
neglect to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be said 
to believe beforehand. It requires also to be mentioned, that, 
in numberless cases, the natural course of things alfords ua 
opportunities for procuring advantages to ourselves at certain 
times, which we cannot procure when we will ; nor even 
recall the opportunities, if we have neglected them. Indeed, 
the general course of nature is an example of this. If, dur- 
ing the opportunity of youth, persons are indocile and self- 
willed, they inevitably sulier in their future life, for want of 
those acquirements which they neglected the natural sea- 
son of attaining. If the husbandman lets his seed-time 
pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond 
recovery. In like manner, though after men have been 
guilty of folly and extravagance, up to a certain degree^ it is 
often in their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to 
recover their health and character, at least in good measure; 
yet real reformation is. in many cases, of no avail at all to- 
wards preventmg the miseries, poverty, sickness, infamy, na- 
turally annexed to foil}' and extravagance, exceeding that de- 
gree. There is a certain bound to imprudence and misbe- 
haviour, which being transgressed, there remains no place 
for repentance in the natural course of things. It is fur- 
ther, very much to be remarked, that neglects from inconsi- 
derateness, want of attention,* not looking about us to see 
what we have to do, are often attended with consequences 
altogether as dreadful as any active misbehaviour, from the 
most extravagant passion. And, lastly, civil government 
being natural, the punishments of it are so too ; and som.e 
of these punishments are capital, as the effects of a disso- 
lute course of pleasure are often mortal. So that many 
natural punishments are fina]| to him who incurs them, if 

* Part ii. chap. 6. 

t The general consideration of a future state of punishment most evi- 
dently belongs to the subject of natural religion. But if any of these re- 
flections should be thought to relate more particularly to this doctrine, aa 
taught in scripture, the reader is desired to observe, that Gentile vsrriters 



CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 



137 



considered only in his temporal capacity ; and seem inflic- 
ted by natural appointment, either to remove the offender 
out of the way of being further mischievouSj or as an ex 
ample, though frequently a disregarded one, to those who 
are left behind. 

These things are not what we call accidental, or to be 
met with only now and then ; but the}^ are things of every 
day's experience ; they proceed from general laws, very 
general ones, by which God governs the w^orld, in the na- 
tural course of his providence. And they are so analogous 
to what religion teaches us concerning the future punish- 
ment of the wicked, so much of a piece with it, that both 
would naturally be expressed in the very same words and 
manner of description. In the book of Proverbs,^ for in- 
stance. Wisdom is introduced as frequenting the most pub- 
lic places of resort, and as rejected when she offers herself 
as the natural appointed guide of human life. ' How long,^ 
speaking to those who are passing through it, ' how long, 
ye simple ones, will ye love folly, and the s corners delight in 
their scorning, and fools hate knowledge ? Turn ye at my 
reproof Behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, T will 
make known my words unto you.' But upon being neg- 
lected, ' Because I have called, and ye refused, 1 have 
stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye have 
set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my re- 
proof : I also will laugh at your calamity, I will m.ock 
when your fear cometh ; when your fear cometh as deso- 
lation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; when 

both moralists and poets, speak of the future punishment of the wicked, 
both as to the duration and degree of it, in a like manner of expression 
and of description as the Scripture does. So that all which can positively 
be asserted to be matter of mere revelation, with regard to this doctrine, 
seems to be, that the great distinction between the righteous and the 
wicked shall be made at the end of this w^orld : that each shall then receive 
according to his deserts. Reason did, as it well might, conclude, that 
it should, finally and upon the whole, be well with the righteous and ill 
with the wicked ; but it could not be determined, upon any principles of 
reason, whether human creatures might not have been appointed to pass 
through other states of life and being, before that distributive justice 
should finally and effectually take place. Revelation teaches us, that the 
next state of things^ after the present, is appointed for the execution of 
this justice; that it shall be no longer delayed; but the mystery of God^ 
the great myster}^ of his suffering vice and confusion to prevail, shall then 
he Jinished ; and he will take to him his great poicer^ and icill reign, by 
rendering to every one according to his works. 

♦Chap. 1. 
12* 



138 OF THE GOVi:RNMENT OF GGD [PART I. 

distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they 
call upon me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek me 
early, but they shall not find me.' This passage, every one 
sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are, highly figurative ; 
but their meaning is obvious. And the thing intended is ex 
]>ressed mere literally in the following words : ' For that 
they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the 
Lori ; therefore shall they eat the fruit of their own way, 
and be filled with their own devices. For the security of 
the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall 
destroy them.' And the whole passage is so equally appli- 
cable to what we experience in the present world, concern- 
ing the consequences of men's actions and to what reli- 
gion teaches us is to be expected in another, that it 
may be questioned which of the two was principally in- 
tended. 

Indeed, when one has been recollecting the proper proofs 
of a future state of rewards and punishments, nothing, me- 
thinks. can give one so sensible an apprehension of the lat- 
ter, or representation of it to the mind, as observing, that 
after the many disregarded checks, adm^onitions, and warn- 
ings, which people meet with in the ways of vice, and folly, 
and extravagance ; vvarnings fromi their very nature ; from 
the examples of others; from the lesser inconveniences which 
the}^ bring upon themselves ; from the instructions of wise 
and virtuous men : after these have been long despised, 
scorned, ridiculed ; after the chief bad consequences, tem- 
poral consequences, of their follies, have been delayed for a 
great while ; at length they break in irresistibly, hke an 
armed force ; repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve 
only to aggravate their distress : the case is become des- 
perate ; and poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, in- 
famy and death, the eiFects of their own doings, overwhelm 
them, beyond possibility of remedy or escape. This is an 
account of what is in fact the general constitution of na- 
ture 

It is not in any sort meant, that according to what ap- 
p *iars at present of the natural course of things, men are 
always uniformly punished in proportion to their misbe- 
haviour ; but that there are very many instances of misbe- 
haviour punished in the several ways now mentioned, and 
very dreadful instances too, sufficient to show what the laws 
of the universe may admit ; and, if thoroughly considered, 
sufficient fully to answer all objections against the credibili- 



CHAP. Il/j BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 139 

ty of a future state of punishments, from any imaginations, 
that the frailty of our nature and external temptations al- 
most annihilate the guilt of human vices ; as well as objec- 
tions of another sort ; from necessity ; from suppositions 
that the will of an infinite Being cannot be contradicted ; or 
that he must be incapable of offence and provocation.* 

Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors to 
serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and of the 
greatest strength of mind ; but it is fit things be stated and 
considered as they really are. And there is, in the present 
age, a certain fearlessness with regard to what may bo 
hereafter under the government of God, which nothing but 
an universally acknowledged demonstration on the side of 
atheism can justify, and which makes it quite necessary that 
men be reminded, and, if possible, made to feel, that there 
is no sort of ground for being thus presumptuous, even 
upon the most sceptical principles. For, may it not be said 
of any person, upon his being born into the world, he may 
behave so as to be of no service to it, but by being made an 
exam23le of the woful effects of vice and folly : That he 
may, as any one may, if he will, incur an infamous execu- 
tion from the hands of civil justice ; or in some other course 
of extravagance shorten his days ; or bring upon himself 
infamj^ and diseases worse than death ? So that it had 
been better for him, even with regard to the present world, 
that he had never been born. And is there any pretence of 
reason for people to think themselves secure, and talk as if 
they had certain proof, that, let them act as licentiously as 
they will, there can be nothing analogous to this, with re- 
gard to a future and more general interest, under the provi- 
dence and government of the same God % 

♦ See Chap. 4 and a - : • ' ^ ' 



140 



or THE MORAL 



[part I 



CHAPTER HI. 

Of the Moral Government of God. 

As the manifold appearances of design and of final cau- 
ses, in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the work 
of an Intelligent Mind, so the particular final causes of 
pleasure and pain, distributed amongst his creatures, prove 
that they are under his government ; what may be called 
his natural government of creatures endued with sense and 
reason. This, however, implies somewhat more than seems 
usually attended to, when we speak of God's natural gov- 
ernment of the world. It implies government of the very 
same kind with that which a master exercises over his ser- 
vants, or a civil magistrate over his subjects. These latter 
instances of final causes as really prove an intelligent gov- 
ernor of the world, in the sense now mentioned, and before* 
distinctly treated of, as any other instances of final causes 
prove an intelligent Maker of it. 

But this alone does not appear, at first sight, to determine 
any thing certainly, concerning the moral character of the 
Author of nature, considered in this relation of governor ; 
does not ascertain his government to be moral, or prove that 
he is the righteous Judge of the world. Moral government 
consists, not barely in rewarding and punishing men for 
their actions, which the most tyrannical person may do ; 
but in rewarding the righteous and punishing the wicked ; 
in rendering to men according to their actions, considered as 
good or evil. And the perfection of moral government con- 
sists in doing this, with regard to ad intelligent creatures, 
in an exact proportion to their personal merits or demerits. 

Some men seem to think the only character of the 
Author of nature to be that of simple absolute benevolence. 
This, considered as a principle of action, and infinite in de- 
gree, is a disposition to produce the greatest possible happi- 



♦ Chap. 2. 



CHAP. III. J 



GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



141 



ness, without regard to persons' behaviour, otherwise than as 
such regard would produce higher degrees of it. And sup- 
posing this to be the only character of God, veracity and 
justice in him would be nothing but benevolence conducted 
by wisdom. Now, surely this ought not to be asserted, un- 
less it can be proved ; for we should speak with cautious 
reverence upon such a subject. And whether it can be 
proved or no, is not the thing here to be inquired into ; but 
w^hether, in the constitution and conduct of the world, a 
righteous government be not discernibly planned out ; Vvdiich 
necessarily implies a righteous governor. There may pos- 
sibly be in the creation of beings, to whom the author of 
nature manifests himself under this most amiable of all 
characters, this of infinite absolute benevolence ; for it is the 
most amiable, supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incom- 
patible with justice : but he manifests himself to us under 
the character of a righteous governor. He may, consist- 
ently with this, be simply and absolutely benevolent, in the 
sense now explained ; but he has, for he has given us a 
proof in the constitution and conduct of the world that he is, 
a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes us for 
our actions. And in the constitution and conduct of it, he 
may also have given, besides the reason of the thing, and 
the natural presages of conscience, clear and distinct inti- 
mations, that his govermrient is righteous or moral : clear to 
such as think the nature of it deserving their attention ; and 
yet not to every careless person who casts a transient reflec- 
tion upon the subject.* 

But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine go- 
vernment, which we experience ourselves under in the pre- 
sent state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfection of 
moral government. And yet this by no means hinders, but 
that there may be somewhat, be it more or less, truly moral 
in it. A righteous government ma}^ plainly appear to be 
carried on to some degree ; enough to give us the apprehen- 
sion that it shall be completed, or carried on to that degree 

♦The objections against religion, from the evidence of its not being 
universal, nor so strong as might possibly have been, may be urged, 
against natural religion, as well as against revealed. And, therefore, the 
consideration of them belongs to the first part of this Treatise, as well as 
the second. But as these objections are chiefly urged against reveaied 
religion, I chose to consider them in the second part. And the answer to 
them there, Chap. 6, as urged against Christianity, being almost equally 
applicable to them as urged against the Religion of Nature, to avoid repe- 
tition, the reader is referred to that chapter. 



142 



OF THE MORAL 



[part I, 



of perfection which religion teaches us it shall ; but v/hich 
cannot appear, till much more of the divine administration 
be seen, than can in the present Hfe. And the design of this 
chapter is to inquire how far this is the case ; how far, over 
and above the moral nature* wliich God has given us, and 
our natural notion of him^ as righteous governor of those 
his creatures to whom he has given this nature ]'[ I s-dj liow 
far, besides this, the principles and beginnings of moral 
government over the world may be discerned notwithstand- 
ing and amidst all the confusion and disorder of it. 

Now one might mention here, what has been often urged 
with great force, that, in general, less uneasiness, and more 
satisfaction, are the natural consequences J of a virtuous 
than a vicious course of life, in the present state as an 
instance of moral government established in nature ; an 
instance of it collected from experience and present mat- 
ter of fact. But It mast be owned a thing of diffi- 
culty to weigh and balance pleasures and uneasinesses, 
each among themselves, and also amongst each other, 
so as to make an estimate with an exactness, of the 
overplus of happiness on the side of virtue. And it is not 
impossible, that, amidst the infinite disorders of the world, 
there may be exceptions to the happiness of virtue, even 
with regard to those persons whose course of hfe, from their 
youth up, has been blameless ; and more with regard to 
those, who have gone on for some time in the ways of vice, 
and have afterwards reformed. For suppose an instance of 
the latter case ; a person with his passions inflamed, his na- 
tural faculty of self-government impaired by habits of in- 
dulgence, and with all his vices about him, like so many 
harpicrs, craving for their accustomed gratification : who 
can say how long it might be before such a person would 
find more satisfaction in the reasonableness and present good 
coasequences of vhtue, than difii cutties and self-denial in 
the restraints of it ? Experience also shows, that men can, 
to a great degree, get over their sense of shame, so as that 
by professing themselves to be without principle, and avow- 
ing even dnect villany, they can support themselves against 
the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any one wiil pro- 
bably be more talked of, and oftener thrown in his way, upon 
his reformation ; so the infamy of them will be much more 
felt, after the natural sense of virtue and of honor is reco- 



♦ Dissertation 2. t Chap. 6. 

t See Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. Part 2, 



CMAP. in.'] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



143 



vored. Uneasinesses of this kind ought indeed to be put to 
the account of former vices ; yet it will be said, they are in 
part the consequences of reformation. Still I am far from 
allowing it doubtful, whether virtue, upon the whole, be hap- 
pier than vice in the present world ; but if it were, yet the be- 
ginnings of a righteous administration may, beyond all ques- 
tion, be found in nature, if we will attentively inquire after 
them. And, 

I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral govern- 
ment over the world might be treated, if it did not appear 
whether he were, in a proper sense, our governor at all ; yet 
when it is certain matter of experience, that he does mani- 
fest himself to us under the character of a governor, in the 
sense explained,* it must deserve to be considered, whether 
there be not reason to apprehend, that he maybe a righteous 
or moral governor. Since it appears to be fact, that 
God does govern mankind by the method of rewards 
and punishments, according to some settled rulers of 
distribution, it is surely a question to be asked, What 
presumption is there against his finally rew^arding and 
punishing them according to this particlar rule, namely, as 
they act reasonably or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously ? 
since rendering man happj^ or miserable by this rule, certain- 
ly falls in, much more falls in, with our natural apprehen- 
sions and sense of things, than doing so by any other rule, 
whatever ; since rewarding and punishing actions by any 
other rule, would appear much harder to be accounted for by 
minds formed as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of reli- 
gion, then, more or less clear, the expectation which it raises 
in us, that the righteous shall upon the whole, be happ}^, and 
the wicked miserable, cannot, however, possibly be consi- 
dered as absurd or chimerical ; because it is no more than an 
expectation, that a method of government, already begun, 
shall be carried on, the method of rewarding and punishing 
actions ; and shall be carried on by a particular rule, which 
unavoidably appears to us, at first sight, more natural than 
any other, the rule which we call distributive justice. Nor, 

II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity, 
satisfaction, and external advantages, being the natural con- 
sec[uences of prudent management of ourselves and our 
affans ; and rashness, profligate neghgence, and wilful 
folly, bringing after them many inconveniencies and suffer- 
ings ; these afford instances of a right constitution of na- 



♦ Chap. 3 



144 



OF THE MORAL 



[part I. 



ture ; as the correction of childrenj for their own sakes and 
by the way of example, when they run into danger or hurl 
themselves, is a part of right education. And thus, that 
God governs the world hy general fixed laws ; that he has 
endued us with capacities of reflecting upon this constitu- 
tion of things, and forseeing the good and bad consequences 
of our behaviour, plainly implies some sort of moral gov em • 
rr:.ent : since from such a constitution of things it cannot but 
follow, that prudence and miprudence, which are of the na- 
ture of virtue and vice,^ must be, as they are, respectively 
rewarded and punished. 

III. From the natural course of things, vicious actions 
are, to a great degree, actually punished as mischievous to 
society ; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon this 
account, there is also the fear and apprehension of it in those 
persons w^hose crimes have rendered them obnoxious to it 
in case of a discovery ; this state of fear being itself often a 
very considerable punishment. The natural fear and appre- 
hension of it too, which restrains from such crimes, is a de- 
claration of nature against them. It is necessary to the 
very being of society, that vices destructive of it should be 
punished as being so ; the vices of falsehood, injustice, cruel- 
ty : which punishment, therefore, is as natural as society, 
and so is an instance of a kind of moral government, 
naturally established, and actually taking place. And, 
since the certain natural course of things is the con- 
duct of Providence or the go\'ernment of God, though 
carried on by the instrumentality of men, the observa- 
tion here made amounts to this, that mankind find them- 
selves placed by him in such circumstances, as that they 
are unavoidably accountable for their behaviour, and are 
often punished, and sometimes rewarded, under his go- 
vernment, in the view of their being mischievous or eminent- 
ly beneficial to society. 

If it be objected that good actions, and such as are bene- 
ficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of perse- 
cution, and in other cases, and that ill and mischievous ac- 
tions are often rewarded ; it may be answered distinctly, 
first, that this is in no sort necessary, and consequently not 
natural in the sense in which it is necessary, and therefore 
natural, that ill or mischievous actions should be punished ; 
and, in the next place, that good actions are never punished, 
considered as beneficial to society, nor ill actions rewarded, 

* See Dissertation 2. 



CHAP. III.] 



GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



145 



under the view of their being hurtful to it. So that it 
stands good, without any thing on the side of vice to be set 
over against it, that the A uthor of nature has as truly di- 
rected that vicious actions, considered as mischievous to so- 
ciety, should be punished, and put mankind under a neces- 
sity of thus punishing them, as he has directed and neces- 
sitated us to preserve our lives by food. 

TV. In the natural course of things, virtue, as such^ is 
actually rewarded, and vice, as such^ punished ; which 
seems to afford an instance, or example, not only of govern- 
ment, but of moral government begun and established ; 
moral in the strictest sense, though not in that perfection of 
degree which religion teaches us to expect. In order to see 
this more clearly, we must distinguish between actions them- 
selves, and that quality ascribed to them., which we call vir- 
tuous or vicious. The gratification itself of every natural 
passion must be attended with deHght ; and acquisitions of 
fortune, however made, are acquisitions of the means or 
materials of enjoyment. An action, then, by which any 
natural passion is gratified, or fortune acquired, procures de- 
light or advantage, abstracted from all consideration of the 
morality of such action. Consequentlj, the pleasure or ad- 
vantage in this case is gained by the action itself, not by the 
morahty, the virtuousness or viciousness of it, though it be, 
perhaps, virtuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action, 
or course of behaviour, procured such pleasure or advantage, 
or brought on such inconvenience and pain, is quite a differ- 
ent thing from sajdng, that such good or bad effect w^as ow • 
ing to the virtue or vice of such an action or behaviour. 
In one case an action, abstracted from all moral considera- 
tion, produced its effect ; in the other case, for it will appear 
that there are such cases, the morality of the action, the 
action under a moral consideration, i. e. the virtuousness or 
viciousness of it, produced the effect. Now I say, virtue, 
as such, naturally procures considerable advantages to the 
virtuous, and vice, as such, naturally occasions great incon- 
venience, and even misery to the vicious, in very many in- 
stances. The immediate effects of virtue and vice upon 
the mind and temper are to be mentioned as instances of 
it. Vice, as such, is naturally attended with some sort of 
uneasiness, and not uncommonly with great disturbance 
and apprehension. That inward feeling w^hich respecting 
lesser matters and in familiar speech, we call being vexed 
with one's self, and in matters of importance, and in more 

lo 



146 



OF THE MORAL 



[part I. 



serious language, remorse, is an uneasiness naturally arising 
from an action of man's own, reflected upon by himself as 
wrong, unreasonabkj fault}', i. e. vicious in greater or less 
degrees ; and this manifestly is a different feeling from that 
uneasiness which arises fi'om a sense of mere loss or harm. 
What is more common than to hear a man lamenticg an 
accident or eventj and adding, — But, however, he has the 
satisfaction that he cannot blame iiimself for it : or, on the 
contrary, that he has the uneasiness of being sensible it was 
his own doing 1 Thus also, the disturbance and fear which 
often follow upon a man's having done an injury, arise from 
a sense of his being blame-worthy ; otherw^ise there would, 
in man}^ cases, be no ground of disturbance nor any reason 
to fear resentment or shame. On the other hand, inward 
security and peace, and a mind open to the several gratifi- 
cations of life, are the natural attendants of imiocence and 
virtue ; to which must be added, the complacency, satisfac- 
tion, and even joy of heart, which accompany the exercise, 
the real exercise, of gratitude, fnendship, benevolence. 

And here, I think, ought to be mentioned, the fears of 
future punishment, and peaceful hopes of a better Ufe, in 
those who fully beheve or have any serious apprehension of 
religion : because these hopes and fears are present uneasi- 
ness and satisfaction to the mind, and cannot be got rid of by 
great part of the world, even by men who have thought 
most thoroughly upon that subject of religion. And no 
one can say how considerable this uneasiness and sa- 
tisfaction may be, or what, upon the whole, it may 
amount to. 

In the next place comes in the consideration, that ail 
honest and good men are disposed to befriend honest good 
men, as such, and to discountenance the vicious, as such, 
and do so in some degree, indeed in a considerable degree ; 
from which favor and discouragement cannot but arise 
considerable advantage and inconvenience. And though 
the generality of the world have Httle regard to the morality 
of their own actions, and may be supposed to have less to 
that of others, when xhey themselves are not concerned ; yetj 
let any one be known to be a man of virtue, somehow or 
other he will be favored, and good offices will be done him 
from regard to his character, without remote views, occa- 
sionally, and in some low degree, I think, by the generali- 
ty of the world, as it happens to come in their way. Publio 
honors, too, and advantages, are the natm'al consequences, 

( 



xP. III. J 



GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



147 



are sometimes at least the consequences in fact, of nrtiious 
actions, of eminent justice, fidelity, charitv , love to our coim- 
try, considered in the view of being- virtuous. And some- 
times even death itself, often infamj' and external inconven- 
iences, are the public consequences of vice, as vice. For 
instance, the sense which mankind have of tj-ranny, injus- 
tice, oppression, additional to the mere feeling or fear of mis- 
ery, has doubtless been instrumental in bringing about 
revolutions, which make a figure even in the historj' of the 
vrorld. For it is plain men resent injuries as inipMng faul- 
tmess, and retaliate, not merely under the notion of having 
received harm, but of having received wrong : and they 
have this resentment in behalf of others, as well as of them- 
selves. So, likewise, even the gencraUtj' are, in some de- 
gree, grateful and disposed to return good offices, not mere- 
ly because such a one has been the occasion of good to 
them, but under the new that such good offices implied 
kind intention and good desert in the doer. To all this may 
be added two or three particular things, which many per- 
sons will think fiivolous ; but to me nothing appears so, 
which at all comes in towards determining a question of such 
importance, as whether there be or be not a moral institu- 
tion of government, in the strictest sense moral, visibly es- 
tablished and begun in nature. The particular things are 
these : That in domestic government, which is doubtless 
natural, childi'en, and others also, are very general!}' punish- 
ed for falsehood, and injustice, and ill-behaviour, as such, and 
rewarded for the contrary ; which are instances where vera- 
city, and justice, and right behaviour, as such, are naturally 
enforced by rewards and punishments, whether m.ore or less 
considerable in degree : that though civil government be 
supposed to take cognizance of actions in no other view 
than as prejudicial to society, without lespect to the mo- 
rahty of them, yet as such actions are immoral, so the 
sense which men have of the irnrnoraHty of them ver}^ great- 
ly contributes, in difi'erent ways, to bring offenders to justice ; 
and that entire absence of all crime and guilt, in the moral 
sense, when plainly appearing, will almost of course procvu'e, 
and circumstances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remiission 
of the penalties annexed to cinl crimes, in many cases, 
though by no means in all. 

Upon the whole, then, besides the good and bad effects 
of virtue and vice upon men's own minds, the course of the 
world does, in some measure, turn upon the approbation and 



148 



OF THE MORAL 



[part h 



disapprobation of them, as such, in others. The sense of 
well and ill doing, the presages of conscience, the love of 
good characters and dislike of bad ones, honor, shame, re- 
sentment, gratitude ; all these, considered in themselves, 
and in their effects, do afford manifest real instances of vir- 
tue, as such, naturally favored, and of vice, as such, dis- 
countenanced, more or less, in the daily course of human 
life; in every age, in every relation, in every general cir- 
cumstance of it. That God has given us a moral nature,* 
may most justly be urged as a proof of our being under his 
moral government ; but that he has placed us in a condition, 
which gives this nature, as one may speak, scope to operate, 
and in which it does unavoidablj^ opeiate, i. e. influence 
mankind to act, so as thus to favor and reward virtue, and 
discountenance and punish vice ; this is not the same, but a 
further additional proof of his moral government ; for it is 
an instance of it. The first is a proof that he will finally 
favor and support rirtue effectually ; the second is an ex- 
ample of his favoring and supporting it at present, in some 
degree. 

If a more distinct inquiry be made, when it arises, that 
virtue, as such, is often rewarded, and vice, as such is pun 
ished, and this rule never inverted ; it will be found to pro- 
ceed, in part, immediately from the moral nature itself which 
God has given us ; and also, in part, from his having given 
las, together with this nature, so great a power over each 
other's happiness and misery. For, first, it is certain, that 
peace and delight, in some degree and upon some occasions, 
is the necessary and present effect of virtuous practice ; an 
effect arising immediately from that constitution of our na- 
ture. We are so made, that well-doing, as such, gives us 
satisfaction, at least in some instances ; ill-doing, as such, in 
none. And, secondly^ from our moral nature, joined with 
God's having put our happiness and misery, in many respects, 
in each other's power, it cannot but be that vice, as such, 
some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infamous, and 
men will be disposed to punish it as in itself detestable ; and 
the villain will by no means be able always to avoid feeling 
that infamy, any more than he will be able to escape this 
further punishment which mankind will be disposed to in- 
flict upon him^ under the notion of his deserving it. But 
there can be nothing on the side of vice to answer this j 



♦ See Dissertation 2. 



CHAP. III.] 



GOVERNMENT OP GOD. 



149 



because there is nothing in the human mind contradictory, 
as the logicians speak, to virtue. For virtue consists in a 
regard to what is right and reasonable, as being so ; in a 
regard to veracity, justice, charity, in themselves : and there 
is surely no such thing as a like natural regard to false- 
hood, injustice, cruelty. If it be thought, that there are in- 
stances of an approbation of vice, as such, in itself^ and for 
its own sake, (though it does not appear to me that there is 
any such thing at all ; but, supposing there be,) it is evi- 
dently monstrous ; as much so as the most acknowledged 
perversion of any passion whatever. Such instances of 
perversion, then, being left out as merely imaginary, or, how- 
ever, unnatural ; it must follow, from the frame of our nature, 
and from our condition, in the respects now described, that 
vice cannot at all be, and virtue cannot but be, favored, as 
such, by others, upon some occasions ; and happy in itself, 
in some degree. For what is here insisted upon, is not in 
the degree in which virtue and vice are thus distinguished, 
but only the thing itself, that they are so in some degree ; 
though the whole good and bad effect of virtue and vice, as 
such, is not inconsiderable in degree. But that they must 
be thus distinguished, in some degree, is in a manner neces- 
sary ; it is matter of fact, of daily experience, even in the 
greatest confusion of human affairs. 

. It is not pretended but that, in the natural course of 
things, happiness and misery appear to be distributed by 
other rules, than only the personal merit and demerit of 
characters. They may sometimes be distributed by way 
of mere discipline. There ma}^ be the wisest and best rea- 
sons why the world should be governed by general laws, 
from whence such promiscuous distribution perhaps must 
follow ; and also why our happiness and misery should be 
put in each other's power, in the degree which they are. 
And these things, as in general they contribute to the re- 
warding virtue and punishing vice, as such ; so they often 
contribute also, not to the inversion of this, which is impos- 
sible, but to the rendering persons prosperous though wick- 
ed, afflicted though righteous ; and, which is worse, to the 
reioarding some actions^ though vicious, and punishing other 
actions^ though virtuous. But all this cannot drown the 
voice of nature in the conduct of Providence plainly declar- 
mg itself for virtue, by way of distinction from vice, and 
preference to it. For, oiu' being so constituted as that virtue 
and vice are thus naturally favored and discountenanced, 



150 



OF THE MORAL 



[part I. 



rewarded and punished respectively as snch, is an intuitive 
proof of the intent of nature that it should be so ; otherwise 
the constitution of our mind, from which it thus immediately 
and directly proceeds^ would be absurd. But it cannot be 
said, because virtuous actions are sometimes punished, and 
vicious actions rewarded, that nature intended it. For, 
though this great disorder is brought about, as all actions 
are done, by means of some natural passion, yet this may he^ 
as it undoubtedly is, brought about by the perversion of such 
passion, implanted in us for other, and those very good pur- 
poses. And indeed these other and good purposes, even of 
every passion, may be clearly seen. 

We have then a declaration, in some degree of present 
effect, from him who is supreme in nature, which side he 
is of or what part he takes ; a declaration for \irtue, and 
against ^ice. So far, therefore, as a man is true to virtue, 
to veracity and justice, to equity and charity, and the right 
of the case, in whatever he is concerned, so far he is on the 
side of the di\dne administration, and cooperates with it ; and 
from hence, to such a man, arises naturally a secret satisfac- 
tion and sense of security, and imphcit hope of somewhat 
farther. And, 

V. This hope is confirmed by the necessary tendencies of 
virtue, which, though not of present effect, yet are at present 
discernible in nature ; and so afford an instance of some- 
what moral in the essential constitution of it. There is, in 
the nature of things, a tendency" m ra'tue and vice to pro- 
duce the good and bad effects now mentioned, in a greater 
degi*ee than they do in fact produce them. For instance, 
good and bad men would be much more rewarded and pun- 
ished as such, were it not that justice is often artificially 
eluded, that characters are not known, and many who 
would thus favor vii'tue and discourage vice, are hmdered 
fi'om doing so by accidental causes. These tendencies of 
vii'tue and vice are obvious with regard to individuals. But 
it may require more particularly to be considered, that power 
in a society^ by being under the dii'ection of \irtue, naturally 
increases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over op- 
posite power, not under the direction of it ; in hke manner 
as power, by being under the direction of reason, increases, 
and has a tendency to prevail over brute force. There are 
several brute creatures of equal, and several of superior 
strength, to that of men ; and possibly the sum of the whole 
sUength of brutes may be greater than that of mankind : 

( 



CitAP, HI.] 



GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



151 



but reason gives us the advantage and superiority over them, 
and thus man is the acknowledged governing animal upon 
the earth. Nor is this superiority considered by any as 
accidental ; but as what reason has a tendency, in the na- 
ture of the thing, to obtain. And yet, perhaps, difficulties 
may be raised about the meaning, as well as the truth of 
the assertion, that virtue has the like tendency. 

To obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinctly 
how the case stands v/ith regard to reason, which is so 
readily acknowledged to have this advantageous tendency. 
Suppose, then, two or three men, of the best and most im- 
proved understanding, in a desolate open plain, attacked by 
ten times the number of beasts of prey ; w^ould their reason 
secure them the victor}^ in this unequal combat? Power, 
then, though joined with reason, and under its direction, 
cannot be expected to prevail over opposite power, though 
merely brutal, unless the one bears some proportion to the 
other. Again, put the imaginary case, that rational and 
irrational creatures were of like external shape and man- 
ner ; it is certain, before there were opportunities for the first 
to distinguish each other, to separate from their adversaries, 
and to form a union among themselves, they might be upon 
a level, or, in several respects, upon great disadvantage, 
though, united, they might be vastly superior ; since union 
is of such efficacy, that ten men, united, might be able to 
accomplish what ten thousand of the same natural strength 
and understanding, w^holly ununited, could not. In this 
case, then, brute force might more than maintain its ground 
against reason, for want of union among the rational crea- 
tures. Or suppose a number of men to land upon an island 
inhabited only by wild beasts ; a number of men, who, by 
the regulations of ci\dl government, the inventions of art, 
and the experience of some years, could they be preserved 
so long, would be really sufficient to subdue the wild beasts, 
and to preserve themselves in security from^ them ; yet a 
conjecture of accidents might give such advantage to the 
irrational animals as that they might at once overpower, 
and even extirpate, the whole species of rational ones. 
Length of time, then, proper scope and opportunities for rea- 
son to exert itself, may be absolutely necessary to its pre- 
vailing over brute force. Further still ; there are many in- 
stances of brutes succeeding in attempts w^hich they could 
not have undertaken, had not their irrational nature render- 
ed them incapable of forseeing the danger of such attempts, 



152 



OF THE MORAL 



[part h 



or the firiy of passion hindered their attending to it ; and 
there are instances of reason, and real prudence preventing 
men's undertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards, they 
might have succeeded in by a kicky rashness. And in certain 
conjunctures, ignorance and folly, weakness and discord, 
may have their advantages. So that rational animals have 
not necessarily the superiority over irrational ones ; but, 
how improbable soever it may be, it is eiddently possible, 
that, in Svome globes, the latter may be superior. And were 
the former wholly at variance and disunited, by false self-in- 
terest and envy, by treachery and injustice, and consequent 
rage and malice against each other, whilst the latter were 
firmly united among themselves by instinct, this might 
greatly contribute to the introducing such an inverted order 
of things. For every one would consider it as inverted ; 
since reason has, in the nature of it, a tendency to prevail 
over brute force, notwithstanding the possibihty it may not 
prevail, and the necessity which there is of many concur- 
ring circumstances to render it prevalent. 

Now, I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to 
procure superiority and additional power, whether this power 
be considered as the means of security from opposite power, 
or of obtaining other advantages. And it has this tenden- 
cy, by rendering public good an object and end to every 
member of the society ; by putting' every one upon consi- 
deration and diligence, recollection and self-government, 
both in order to see what is the m.ost effectual method, and 
also in order to perform their proper part, for obtaining and 
preserving it ; by uniting a society within itself, and so in- 
creasing its strength, and, which is particularly to be men- 
tioned, uniting it by means of veracity and justice. For as 
these last are principal bonds of union, so benevolence, or 
pubhc spirit, undirected, unrestrained by them, is — nobody 
knows what. 

And suppose the invisible world, and the invisible dispen- 
sations of Providence, to be in any sort analogous to what 
appears ; or, that both together make up one imiform 
scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we see, and 
that which is beyond our observation, are analogous to 
each other ; then, there must be a like natural tendency in 
the derived power, throughout the universe, under the direc- 
tion of virtue, to prevail in general over that which is not 
tinder its direction ; as there is in reason, derived reason in 
the universe, to prevail over brute force. But then, in order 

( 



CHAP. III. 



GOVERNMEN'? OP GOD. 



155 



to the prevalence of virtue, or that it may actually produce 
what it has a tendency to produce, the like concurrences 
are necessary as are to the prevalence of reason. There 
must be some proportion between the natural power or force 
which is, and that which is not, under the direction of vir- 
tue : There must be sufficient length of time ; for the com- 
plete success of virtue, as of reason, cannot from the nature 
of the thing, be otherwise than gradual : there must be, as 
one may speak, a fair field of trial, a stage large and exten- 
sive enough, proper occasions and opportunities for the vir- 
tuous to join together, to^exert themselves against lawless 
force, and to reap the fruit of their united labours. Now 
indeed it is to be hoped, that the disproportion between the 
good and the bad, even here on earth, is not so great, but 
that the former have natural power sufficient to their pre- 
vailing to a considerable degree, if circumstances would 
permit this power to be united. For, much less, very much 
less power, under the direction of virtue, would prevail over 
much greater, not under the direction of it. However, good 
men over the face of the earth cannot unite ; as for other 
reasons, so because they cannot be sufficiently ascertained 
of each other's characters. And the known course of hu- 
man things, the scene we are now passing through, parti- 
cularly the shortness of life, denies to virtue its full scope 
in several other respects. The natural tendency which 
we have been considering, though real, is hindered from be- 
ing earned into effect in the present state, but these hindran- 
ces may be removed in a future one. Virtue, to borrow the 
Christian allusion, is militant here, and various untovrard 
accidents contribute to its being often overborne ; but it may 
combat with greater advantage hereafter, and prevail com- 
pletely and enjoy its consequent rewards, in some future 
states. Neglected as it is, perhaps unknown, perhaps des- 
pised and oppressed here, there may be scenes in eternity, 
lasting enough, and in every other way adapted, to afford it 
a sufficient sphere of action, and a sufficient sphere for the 
natural consequences of it to follow in fact. If the soul be 
naturally immortal, and this state to be a progress towards 
a future one, as childhood is towards mature age, good men 
may naturally unite, not only amongst themselves, but also 
with other orders of \drtuous creatures, m that future state. 
For virtue, from the very nature of it, is a principal and 
bond of union, in some degree, amongst all who are endued 
with it, and known to each other ; so as that by it a 



154 



OP THE MORAL 



[PAUT I. 



good man cannot but recommend himself to the favor and 
protection of all virtuous being's, throughout the whole uni- 
versCj who can be acquainted with his character, and can 
any way interpose in his behalf in any part of his duration. 
And one might add, that suppose all this advantageous ten- 
dency of virtue to become effect amongst one or more orders of 
creatures, in any distant scenes and periods, and to be seen 
by any orders of vicious creatures, throughout the universal 
kingdom of God ; this happy effect of virtue would have a 
tendency, by way of example, and possibly in other ways, 
to amend those of them who are capable of amendment, 
and being recovered to a just sense of virtue. If our notions 
of the plan of Providence were enlarged, in any sort pro- 
portionable to what late discoveries have enlarged our views 
with respect to the material world, representations of this 
kind would not appear absurd or extravagant. However, 
they are not to be taken as intended for a literal deline- 
ation of what is in fact the particular scheme of the uni- 
verse, which cannot be known without revelation ; for sup- 
positions are not to be looked on as true, because not incre- 
dible, but they are mentioned to show, that our finding 
virtue to be hindered from procuring to itself such superiority 
and advantages, is no objection against its having in the 
essential nature of the thing, a tendency to procure them. 
And the suppositions now mentioned do plainly show this ; 
for they show, that these hindrances are so far from being 
necessary, that we ourselves can easily conceive how they 
may be removed in future states, and full scope be granted 
to virtue. And all these advantageous tendencies of it are 
to be considered as declarations of God in its favor. This, 
however, is taking a pretty large compass ; though it is 
certain, that as the material world appears to be, in a man- 
ner, boundless and immense, there must be some scheme of 
Providence vast in proportion to it. 

But let us return to the earth, our habitation, and wo 
shall see this happy tendency of virtue, by imagining an 
instance not so vast and remote ; by supposing a kingdom, 
or society of men, upon it, perfectly virtuous, for a succession 
of many ages ; to which, if you please, may be given a sit- 
uation advantageous to universal monarchy. In such a 
state there would be no such thing as faction, but men of 
the greatest capacity would, of course, all along, have the 
chief direction of affairs willingly jdelded to them, and they 
would share it among themselves without envy. Each of 



CHAP. III.] 



GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



155 



these would have the part assigned him to which his gen- 
ius was peculiarly adapted ; and others, who had not any 
distinguished genius, would be safe, and think themselves 
very happy, by bemg under the protection and guidance of 
those who had. Public determinations would really be the 
result of the united wisdom of the community, and they 
would faithfully be executed by the united strength of it. 
Some would in a higher way contribute, but all would in 
some way contribute to the pubhc prosperity, and in it eac h 
would enjoy the fruits of his own vhtue. And as injustice, 
whether by Iraud or force, would be unknown among them- 
selves, so they would be sufficiently secured from it in their 
neighbors. For cunning and false self-interest, confedera- 
cies in injustice, ever slight and accompanied with faction 
and intestine treachery ; these, on one hand, would be found 
mere childish folly and weakness, when set in opposition 
against wisdom, public spirit, union inviolable, and fidehty 
on the other, allowing both a sufficient length of j^ears to 
try their force. Add the general influence which such a 
kingdom would have over the face of the earth, by way of 
example particularly, and the reverence which would be 
paid it. It would plainly be superior to all others, and the 
world must gradually come under its empire ; not b}^ means 
of lawless violence, but partly by what must be allowed to 
be just conquest, and partly by other kingdoms submitting 
themselves voluntaril}^ to it throughout a course of ages, 
and claiming its protection, one after another, in successive 
exigencies. The head of it would be a universal monarch, 
in another sense than any mortal has yet been, and the eas- 
tern style would be literally applicable to him, that all peo- 
ple^ nations^ and languages should serve him. And though 
indeed our knowledge of human nature, and the whole his- 
tory of mankind, show the impossibility, without some mi- 
raculous interposition, that a number of men here on earth 
shall unite in one society or government, in the fear of God 
and universal practice of virtue, and that such a govern- 
ment should continue so united for a succession of ages ; 
yet, admitting or supposing this, the effect would be as now 
drawn out. And thus, for instance, the wonderful power 
and prosperity promised to the Jewish nation in the Scrip- 
ture, would be, in a great measure, the consequence of 
what is predicated of them ; that the ' people should be all 
righteous and inherit the land forever were we to under* 



* Isa. Ix. 2L 



OF THE MORAL 



[part T. 



stand the latter phrase of a long continuance only, sufficient 
to give things time to work. The predictions of this kind, 
for there are many of them, cannot come to pass in the 
present known course of nature ; but suppose them come 
to pass, and then the dominion and pre-eminence promised 
must naturally follow, to a very considerable degree. 

Consider, now, the general system of religion ; that the 
government of the world is uniform, and one, and moral ; 
that virtue and right shall finally have the advantage, and 
prevail over fraud and lawless force, over the deceits as well 
as the violence of wickedness, under the conduct of one su- 
preme Governor ; and from the observations above made it 
will appear, that God has, by our reason, given us to see a 
peculiar connexion in the several parts of this scheme, and 
a tendency towards the completion of it, arising out of the 
very nature of virtue ; which tendency is to be considered 
as somewhat moral in the essential constitution of things 
If any one should think all this to be of little importance, I 
desire him to consider what he would think, if vice had, es- 
sentially and in its nature, these advantageous tendencies, 
or if virtue had essentially the direct contrary ones. 

But it may be objected, that notwithstandnig all these 
natural effects, and these natural tendencies of virtue, yet 
things may be now going on throughout the universe, and 
may go on hereafter, in the same mixed way as here at 
present upon earth ; virtue sometimes prosperous, some- 
times depressed ; vice sometimes punished, sometimes suc- 
cessful. The answer to which is, that it is not the purpose 
of this chapter, nor of this treatise, properly to prove God^s 
perfect moral government over the world, or the truth of re- 
ligion, bat to observe what there is in the constitution and 
course of nature to confirm the proper proof of it, supposed 
to be known, and that the weight of the foregoing observa- 
tions to this purpose may be thus distinctly proved. Pleas- 
ure and pain are indeed, to a certain degree, say to a very 
high degree, distributed amongst us, without any apparent 
regard to the merit or demerit of characters. And were 
there nothing else, concerning this matter, discernible in the 
constitution and course of nature, there would be no ground, 
from the constitution and course of nature, to hope or to 
fear, that men would be rewarded or punished hereafter ac- 
cording to their deserts ; which, however, it is to be remark- 
ed, implies, that even then there would be no ground, fi'om 
appearances, to think that vice, upon the whole, would have 



CHAP. III. J GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 



157 



the advantage, rather than that virtue would. And thus 
the proof of a future state of retribution Avould rest upon the 
usual known arguments for it ; which are, I think, plainly 
unanswerable, and would be so, though there were no addi- 
tional confirmation of them from the things above insisted 
on. But these things are a very strong confirmation of 
them : For, 

First^ they show that the Author of nature is not indiffer- 
ent to virtue and vice. They amount to a declaration from 
him, determinate, and not to be evaded, in favor of one, and 
against the other : such a declaration as there is nothing to 
be set over against, or answer, on the part of vice. So that 
were a man, laying aside the proper proof of religion, to 
determine from the course of nature only, whether it were 
most probable that the righteous or the wicked would have 
the advantage in a future life, there can be no doubt but 
that he would determine the probabihty to be, that the for- 
mer would. The course of nature, then, in the view of it 
now given, furnishes us with a real practical proof of the 
obligations of religion. 

Secondly^ When, conformably to what religion teaches us, 
God shall reward and punish virtue and vice, as such, so as 
that every one shall, upon the whole, have his deserts, this 
distributive justice will not be a thing different in kind^ but 
only in degree^ from what vre experience in his present gov- 
ernment. It will be that in effect^ toward which we now see 
a Undencij. It will be no more than the compleiion of that 
moral government, the princivles and beginning of wliich 
have been shown, beyond all dispute, discernible in the 
present constitution and course of nature. And from hence 
it follows. 

Thirdly^ That as, under the natural government of God, 
our experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness and 
miseiy, which we do experience at present, gives just ground 
to hope for and to fear higher degrees and other kinds of 
both in a future state, supposing a future state admitted ; so, 
under his moral government, our experience that virtue and 
vice are, m the manners above-mentioned, actually reward- 
ed and punished at present, m a certain degree, gives just 
ground to hope and to fear that they 7nay be rewarded and 
punished in a higher degree hereafter. It is acknowledged, 
indeed, that this alone is not sufficient ground to tliink, that 
they actually xoill be rewarded and punished in a higher de- 
gree, rather than in a lower : But then, 



158 



OF THE MORAL 



[PAHT 1. 



Lastly y There is sufRcient ground to think so, from the 
good and bad tendencies of virtue and vice. For these ten- 
dencies are essentialj and founded in the nature of things ; 
whereas the hindrances, to their becoming effects are, in 
numberless cases, not necessary, but artificial only. Now, 
it may be much more strongly urged, that these tendencies, 
as well as the actual rewards and punishments of virtue and 
Aice, which arise directl}^ out of the nature of things, will 
remain hereafter, than that the accidental hinderances of 
them will. And if these hinderances do not remain, those 
rewards and punishments cannot but be canied on much 
further towards the perfection of moral government, i. e. the 
tendency of virtue and vice will become effect ; but when, 
or where, or in what particular way, cannot be known at 
all but by revelation. 

Upon the whole, there is a kind of moral government im- 
plied in God's natural government virtue and vice are 
naturally rewarded and punished as beneficial and mis- 
chievous to society,! and rewarded and punished directly as 
virtue and vice. J The notion, then, of a moral scheme of 
government, is not fictitious, but natural ; for it is suggested 
to our thoughts by the constitution and course of nature, 
and the execution of this scheme is actually begun, in the 
instances here mentioned. And these things are to be con- 
sidered as a declaration of the Author of nature, for virtue, 
and against vice ; they give a credibility to the supposition 
of their bemg rewarded and punished hereafter, and also 
ground to hope and to fear, that they may be rewarded and 
punished in higher degrees than they are here. And as all 
this is confirmed, so the argument for religion, from the con- 
stitution and course of nature, is carried on farther, by obseiw- 
ing, that there are natural tendencies, and, in innumerable 
cases, onl}^ artificial hindrances, to tliis moral scheme being 
carried on much farther towards perfection than it is at pre- 
sent. § The notion, then, of a moral scheme of govern- 
ment, much more perfect than what is seen, is not a ficti- 
tious, but a natural notion, for it is suggested to our thoughts 
by the essential tendencies of ratue and vice. And these 
tendencies are to be considered as intimations, as implicit 
promises and threatenings, from the Author of nature, of 
much greater rewards and punishments to follow virtue and 

* Page 101. t Page 102. * Page 103, &c 
§ Page 109, &c 

( 



CHAP. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. LjI 



vice, than do at present. And, indeed, every natural ten- 
dency, which is to continue, but which is hindered from be- 
coming" effect by only accidental causes, affords a presump* 
tion, that such tendency will, some time or other, become 
effect : a presumption in degree proportionable to the length 
of the duration through which such tendency will continue. 
And ffom these things together arises a repJ presumption, 
that the moral scheme of government established in nature, 
shall be earned on much farther tow^ards perfection here- 
after, and, I think, a presumption that it will be absolutely 
completed. But from these things, joined with the moral 
nature which God has given usj considered as given us by 
hiir.^ aiises a practical proof* that it will be completed ; a 
proo 'from fact, and therefore a distinct one from that which 
is deduced from the eternal and unalterable relations, the 
fitness and unfitness of actions. 

♦ See this proof di^vm out briefly, chap. 6. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Of a State of Probation^ as implying Trial, Difficulties , and 

Danger, 

The general doctrine of religion, that our present life is 
a state of probation for a future one, comprehends under 
it several particular things, distinct from each other. But 
the first and most common meaning of it seems to be, that 
our future interest is now depending, and depending upon 
ourselves ; that we have scope and opportunities here for 
that good and bad behaviour, w^hich God will reward and 
punish hereafter ; together with temptations to one, as well 
as inducements of reason to the other. And this is, in great 
measure, the same with saying, that w^e are under the 
moral government of God, and to give an account of our 
actions to him. For the notion of a future account, and 
general righteous judgment, implies some sort of tempta- 
tions to what is wrong, otherwise there would be no moral 
possibility of doing wrong, nor ground for judgment or dis- 
crimination. But there is this difference, that the word pro- 
bation is more distinctly and particularly^ expressive of allure- 
ments to wrong, or difficulties in adhering uniformly to what 
is right, and of the danger of miscarrying by such tempta- 
tions, than the words moral government. A state of proba- 
tion, then, as thus particularly implying in it trial, difficulties, 
and danger, may require to be considered distinctly by itself. 

And as the moral government of God, which religion 
teaches us, implies, that we are in a state of trial with regard 
to a future world ; so also his natural government over us 
implifCs, that we are in a state of trial, in a like sense, with 
regard to the present world. Natural government, by re- 
wards and punishments, as much implies natural trial, as 
moral government does moral trial. The natural govern- 



CHAP. IV.] 



OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 



161 



ment of God here meant,* consists in his annexing pleasure 
to some actions, and pain to others, which are in our power 
to do or forbear, and in giving us notice of such appoint- 
ment beforehand. This necessarilj?- implies, that he has 
made our happiness and misery, or our interest, to depend 
in part upon ourselves. And so far as men have tempta- 
tions to any course of action, which wih probably occasion 
them greater temporal inconvenience and uneasiness than 
satisfaction, so far their temporal interest is in danger from 
themselves, or they are in a state of trial with respect to it. 
Now, people often blame others, and even themselves, for 
their misconduct in their temporal concerns. And we find 
many are greatly w^anting to themselves, and miss of that 
natural happiness w^hich they might have obtained in the 
present life ; perhaps everj one does in some degree. But 
many run themselves into great inconvenience, and into ex- 
treme distress and miserj^, not through incapacity of know- 
ing better, and doing better for themselves, which would be 
nothing to the present purpose, but through their own fault. 
And these things necessarily imply temptation, and danger 
of miscarrj^ng, in a greater or less degree, with respect to 
our worldly interest or happiness. Every one, too, without 
having religion in Ms thoughts, speaks of the hazards which 
young people run upon their setting out in the world ; haz- 
ards from other causes, than merely their ignorance, and 
unavoidable accidents. And some courses of vice, at leasts 
being contrary to men's worldly interest or good, temptations 
to these must at the same time be temptations to forego our 
present and our future interest. Thus, in our natural or 
temporal capacity, w^e are in a state of trial, i. e. of difficulty 
and danger, analogous or like to our moral and rehgious 
trial. 

This will more distinctly appear to any one, who thinks 
it w^orth while, more distinctly, to consider what it is which 
constitutes our trial in both capacities, and to observe how 
mankind- behave imder it. 

And that which constitutes this our trial, in both theso 
capacities, must be somewhat either in our external circum- 
Btances, or in our nature. For, on the one hand, persons 
maybe betrayed into -wrong behaviour upon surprise, or 
overcome upon any other very singular and extraordinary 



* Chap. 2. 
14* 



162 



OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 



[part I. 



external occasionsj who would, otherwise, have preserved 
their character of prudence and of virtue ; in which cases, 
every one, in speaking of the wrong behaviour of these per- 
sons, would impute it to such particular external circum- 
stances. And, on the other hand, men who have contracted 
habits of vice and folly of any kind, or have some particu- 
lar passions in excess, will seek opportunities, and, as it 
V/'3re, go out of their way, to gratify themselves in these 
respects, at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue ; 
led to it, as every one would say, not by external tempta- 
tions, but by such habits and passions. And the account 
of this last case is, that particular passions are no more co- 
incident with prudence, or that reasonable self-love, the end 
of which is our worldly interest, than they are with the prin- 
ciple of virtue and religion, but often draw contrary ways 
to one as well as to the other ; and so such particular pas- 
sions are as much temptations to act imprudently with re • 
gard to our worldly interest, as to act viciously * However, 
as when we say, men are misled by eternal circumstances of 
temptation, it cannot but be understood, that there is some^ 
what within themselves, to render those circumstances 
temptations, or to render them susceptible of impressions 
from them ; so, when we say, they are misled by passions, 
it is always supposed, that there are occasions, circum- 
stances, and objects, exciting these passions, and affording 
means for gratifying them. And, therefore, temptations 
from within, and from without, coincide, and mutually imply 
each other. Now, the several external objects of the appe- 
tites, passions, and affections, being present to the senses, or 
offering themselves to the mind, and so exciting emotions 
suitable to their nature, not only in cases where they can 
be gratified consistently with innocence and prudence, but 
also in cases where they cannot, and yet can be gratifi- 
ed imprudently and viciously ; this as really puts them in 
danger of voluntarily foregoing their present interest or 
good, as their future, and as really renders self-denial neces- 
sary to secure one as the other ; i. e. we are in a like state 
of trial with respect to both, by the very same passions, ex- 
cised by the very same means. Thus, mankind having a 
temporal interest depending upon themselves, and a prudent 
course of behaviour being necessary to secure it, passions 

* See Sermons preached at the Rolls, 1726, 2d Ed. 20&, &c Pief. p 
25, &c. Serm. p,21, &c. 

( 



CHAP. [ OP A STATE OF TRIAL. 



163 



inordinately excited, whether by means of example or by 
any other external circumstance, towards such objects, at 
such times, or in such degrees, as that they cannot be grati- 
fied consistently with worldly prudence, are temptations 
dangerous, and too often successful temptations, to forego a 
greater temporal good for a less ; i. e. to forego what is, upon 
the whole, our temporal interest, for the sake of a present 
gratification. This is a description of our state of trial in 
our temporal capacity. Substitute now the word future for 
temporal^ and virtue for prudence^ and it will be just as proper 
a description of our state of trial in our religious capacity ; 
so analogous are they to each other. 

If, fi'om consideration of this our hke state of trial in both 
capacities, we go on to observe farther, how mankind be- 
have under it, we shall find there are some who have so 
little sense of it, that they scarce look bej^ond the passing 
day ; they are so taken up with present gratifications, as to 
have, in a manner, no feeling of consequences, no regard to 
their future ease or fortune in this life, any more than to their 
happiness in another. Some appear to be blinded and de- 
ceived by inordinate passion, in their worldly concerns, as 
much as in religion. Others are, not deceived, but, as it 
were, forcibly carried away, by the like passions, against 
their better judgment, and feeble resolutions, too, of acting 
better. And there are meU; and truly they are not a few, 
who shamelessly avow, not their interests, but their mere 
will and pleasure, to be their law of life ; and who, m open 
defiance of every thing that is reasonable, will go on in a 
course of vicious extravagance, foreseeing, with no remorse 
and Httle fear, that it will be their temporal ruin ; and some 
of them, under the apprehension of the consequences of 
wickedness in another state : and, to speak in the most 
moderate way, human creatures are not only continually lia- 
ble to go wrong voluntarily, but we see likewise that they 
often actually do so, with respect to their temporal mterests, 
as well as with respect to religion. 

Thus, our difiicuities and dangers, or our trials in our 
temporal and our religious capacit}^, as they proceed from 
the same causes, and have the same effect upon men's 
behaviour, are evidently analogous, and of the same kind. 

It may be added, that as the difiicuities and dangers of 
rniscarr3dng in our rehgious state of trial are great Ij^ in- 
creased, and, one is ready to think, in a m.anner wholly 
made^ by the ill-behaviour of others ; by a wrong education, 



164 



OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 



[part I. 



v/rong in a moral sense, sometimes positively vicious ; by 
general bad example ; by the dishonest artifices which are 
got into business of all kinds ; and, in very many parts of 
the world, by religion being corrupted into superstitions 
which indulge men in their vices ; so, in like manner, the 
difficulties of conducting ourselves prudently in respect to 
cm' present interests, and our danger of being led aside from 
pursuing it, are greatly increased by a foolish education, and, 
after we come to mature age, by the extravagance and 
carelessness of others, whom we have intercourse with; 
and by mistaken notions, very generally prevalent, and ta- 
ken up from common opinion, concerning temporal happi- 
ness, and wherein it consists. And persons, by their own 
negligence and folly in their temporal affairs, no less than 
by a course of vice, bring themselves into new difficulties, 
and, by habits of indulgence, become less qualified to go 
through them ; and one irregularity after another embar- 
rasses things to such a degree, that they know not where- 
about they are, and often makes the path of conduct so in- 
tricate and perplexed, that it is difficult to trace it out ; diffi- 
cult even to determine what is the prudent or the moral part. 
Thus, for instance, wrong behaviour in one stage of life, 
youth ; wrong, I mean, considering ourselves only in our 
temporal capacity, without taking in religion ; this, in sev- 
eral ways, increases the difficulties of right beha\'iour in 
mature age ; i. e. puts us into a more disadvantageous state 
of trial in our temporal capacity. 

We are an inferior part of the creation of God. There 
are natural appearances of our being in a state of degra- 
dation and we certainly are in a condition which does 
not seerrij by any means, the most advantageous we could 
imagine or desire, either m our natural or moral capacity, for 
securing either our present or future interest. However, 
this condition, low, and careful, and uncertain as it is, does 
not affi3rd any just ground of complaint : For, as men may 
manage their temporal affairs with prudence, and so pass 
their days here on earth in tolerable ease and satisfaction, by 
a moderate degree of care ; so, likewise, with regard to reli- 
gion, there is no more required than what they are well able 
to do, and what they must be greatly wanting to themiselves 
if they neglect. And for persons to have that put upon 
them which they are well able to go through, and no more, 



* Part 2, Chap. 5. 



CHAP. IV.] 



OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 



105 



we natural!}^ consider as an equitable thing, supposing it 
done by proper authority. Nor have we any more reason to 
complain of it, with regard to the Author of nature, than 
of his not having given us other advantages, belonging to 
other orders of creatures. 

But the thing here insisted upon is, that the state of trial 
which religion teaches us we are in, is rendered credi- 
ble, by its being throughout uniform and of a piece 
with the general conduct of Providence towards us, in 
all other respects within the compass of our knowledge. 
Indeed, if mankind, considered in their natural capacity 
as inhabitants of tliis world only, found themselves, from 
their birth to their death in a settled state of security 
and happiness, without any solicitude or thought of 
their own ; or, if they were in no danger of being brought 
into mconveniences and distress by carelessness, or the folly 
of passion, through bad example, the treacherj^ of others, 
or the deceitful appearances of things ; were this our natur- 
al condition, then it might seem strange, and be some pre- 
sumption against the truth of religion, that it represents our 
future and more general interest, as not secure of course, 
but as depending upon our behaviour and requiring recollec- 
tion and self-govemm.ent to obtain it. For it might be al- 
leged, ' What you say is our condition in one respect, is not 
in any wise of a sort with what we find, by experience, our 
condition is in another. Our whole present interest is secur- 
ed to our hands, without any solicitude of ours, and why 
should not our future interest, if Vv^e have any such, be so 
too V But since, on the contrary, thought and considera- 
tion, the voluntary denj-ing ourselves many things which 
we desire, and a course of behaviour far from being always 
agreeable to us, are absolutelj^ necessary to our acting even 
a common decent, and common prudent part, so as to pass 
with an}' satisfaction through the present world, and be re- 
ceived upon any tolerable good terms in it ; since this is the 
case, alLpresumption against self-denial and attention being 
necessary to secure our highest interest, is removed. Had 
we not experience, it might, perhaps, speciously be urged, 
that it is improbable any thing of hazard and danger should 
be put upon us by an infinite Being, when every thing 
which is hazard and danger in cur manner of conception, 
and will end in error, confusion, and misery, is now already 
certain in his foreknowledge. And, indeed, why any thing 
of hazard and danger should be put upon such frail creatures 



1C6 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART I. 

as we are, may well be thought a difficulty in speculation ; 
and cannot but be so, till we know the whole, or, however, 
much more of the case. But still the constitution of nature 
is as it is. Our happiness and misery are trusted to our 
conduct, and made to depend upon it. Somewhat, and, in 
many circumstances, a great deal too, is put upon us, either to 
do, or to suffer, as we choose. And all the various miseries 
of life, which people bring upon themselves by negligence 
and folly, and might have avoided by proper care, are in- 
stances of this ; which miseries are, beforehand, just as con- 
tingent and undetermined as their conduct, and left to be 
determined by it. 

These observations are an answer to the objections 
against the credibiHty of a state of trial, as implying temp- 
tations, and real danger of miscarrying with regard to our 
general interest, under the moral government of God ; and 
they show, that, if we are at all to be considered in such a 
capacity, and as having such an interest, the general analo- 
gy of Providence must lead us to apprehend ourselves in 
danger of miscarrying, in different degrees, as to this inter- 
est, by our neglecting to act the proper part belonging to us 
in that capacity. For we have a present interest, under 
the government of God which we experience here upon 
earth. And this interest, as it is not forced upon us, so nei- 
ther is it offered to our acceptance, but to our acquisition ; 
in such sort, as that we are in danger of missing it, by 
means of temptations to neglect or act contrary to it ; and 
without attention and self-denial, must and do miss of it. It 
fs then perfectly credible, that this may be our case with 
respect to that chief and final good which religion proposes 
to us. 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



It? 



CHAPTER V. 

Of a State of Probation^ as intended for Moral Discipline and 

Improvement. 

From the consideration of our being in a probation-state, 
of so much difficulty and hazard, naturally arises the ques- 
tion, how we came to be placed in it ? But such a general 
inquiry as this would be found involved in insuperable diffi- 
culties. For, though some of these difficulties would be 
lessened by observing, that all wickedness, is voluntary, as 
is implied in its very notion, and that many of the miseries of 
life have apparent good effects, yet when we consider other 
circumstances belonging to both, and what must be the con- 
sequence of the former in a life to come, it cannot but be 
acknowledged plain folly and presumption, to pretend to 
give an account of the whole reasons of this matter ; the 
whole reasons of our being alloted a condition, out of which 
so much wickedness and misery, so circumstanced, would 
in fact arise. Whether it be not beyond our faculties, 
not only to find out, but even to understand, the whole ac- 
count of this ; or, though we should be supposed capable of 
understanding it, yet, whether it would be of service or pre- 
judice to us to be informed of it, is impossible to say. But 
as our present condition can in no wise be shown inconsis- 
tent with the perfect moral government of God ; so reli- 
gion teaches us we are placed in it, that we might qualify 
ourselves, by the practice of virtue, for another state, which 
is to follow it. And this, though but a partial answer, a 
very partial one indeed, to the inquiiy now mentioned, yet 
is a more satisfactory answer to another, which is of real, 
and of the utmost importance to us to have answered — the 
inquiry, What is our business here ? The known end, then, 
why we are placed in a state of so much affliction, hazard, 



166 



OF A STATE OF 



[part I. 



and difficulty, is, our improvement in virtue and piety, as 
the requisite qualification for a future state of security and 
happiness. 

Now, the beginning of life, considered as an education for 
mature age in the present v^orld, appears plainly, at first 
sight, analogous to this our trial for a future one ; the for- 
mer being, in our temporal capacity, what the latter is in 
our religious capacity. But some observations common to 
both of them, and a more distinct consideration of each, will 
more distinctly show the extent and force of the analogy be- 
tween them ; and the credibihty, which arises from hence, 
as well as from the nature of the thing, that the present 
life was intended to be a state of discipline for a future one. 

I. Every species of creature is, we see, designed for a 
particular way of life, to which the nature, the capacities, 
temper, and qualifications of each species, are as necessary 
as their external circumstances. Both come into the no- 
tion of such state, or particular way of life, and are constitu 
ent parts of it. Change a man's capacities or character to 
the degree in which it is conceivable they may be changed, 
and he would be altogether incapable of a human course of 
life and human happiness ; as incapable, as if, his nature con- 
tinuing unchanged, he were placed in a world where he 
had no sphere of action, nor any objects to answer his appe- 
tites, passions, and affections of any sort. One thing is set 
over against another, as an ancient writer expresses it. Our 
nature corresponds to our external condition. Without this 
correspondence, there would be no possibility of any such 
thing as human life and human happiness ; which life and 
happiness are, therefore, a result fi*om our nature and condi- 
tion jointly ; meaning by human life, not living in the liter- 
al sense, but the whole complex notion commonly under- 
stood by those words. So that, without determining what 
will be the employment and happiness, the particular 
life of good men hereafter, there must be some determinate* 
capacities, some necessary character and qualifications, 
without which persons cannot but be utterly incapable of it ; 
in like manner as there must be some, without which men 
would be incapable of their present state of life. Now, 

II. The constitution of human creatures, and indeed of 
all creatures which come under our notice, is such, as that 
they are capable of naturally becoming qualified for states 
of life, for which they were once wholly -unqualified. In 
imagination we may indeed conceive of creatures, as inca- 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



169 



pable of having any of their faculties naturally enlarged, or 
as being unable naturally to acquire any new qualifications ; 
but the faculties of every species known to us are made for 
enlargement, for acquirements of experience and habits. 
We find ourselves, in particular, endued with capacities, not 
only of perceiving ideas, and of knowledge or perceiving 
truth, but also of storing up our ideas and knowledge by 
memory. We are capable, nol only of acting, and of hav- 
ing different momentary impressions made upon us, but of 
getting a new facility in any kind of action, and of settled 
alterations in our temper or character. The power of the 
two last is the power of habits. But neither the perception 
of ideas, nor knowledge of any sort, are habits, though ab- 
solutely necessary to the forming of them. However, ap- 
prehension, reason, memory, which are the capacities of 
acquiring knowledge, are greatly improved by exercise. 
Whether the word habit is applicable to all these improve- 
ments, and, in particular, how far the powers of memory and 
of habits may be powers of the same nature, I shall not in- 
quire. But that perceptions come into our minds readily 
and of course, by means of their having been there before, 
seems a thing of the same sort, as readiness in any particu- 
lar kind of action, proceeding from being accustomed to it. 
And aptness to recollect practical observations of service in 
our conduct, is plainly habit in many cases. There are 
habits of perception and habits of action. An instance 
of the former, is our constant and even involuntary readi- 
ness in correcting the impressions of our sight concerning 
magnitudes and distances, so as to substitute judgment in 
the room of sensation, imperceptibly to ourselves. And it 
seems as if all other associations of ideas, not naturally con- 
nected, might be called passive habits, as properly as our 
readiness in understanding languages upon sight, or healing 
of words. And our readiness in speaking and writing them 
is an instance of the latter, of active habits. For distinct- 
ness, we may consider habits as belonging to the body, 
or the mind, and the latter will be explained by the former. 
Under the former are comprehended all bodily activities or 
motions, whether graceful or unbecoming, which are owing 
to use ; under the latter, general habits of life and conduct, 
such as those of obedience and submission to authority, or 
to any particular person ; those of veracity, justice, and 
charity ; those of attention, industry, self-government, envy, 
avenge. And habits of this latter kind seem produced by 

15 



170 



OF A STATE OF 



[part I. 



repeated acts, as well as the former. And in like manner, 
as habits belonging to the body are produced by external 
actSj so habits of the mind are produced b}' the exertions of 
inward practical principles ; i. e. by carrying them into act, 
or acting upon them, the principles of obedience, of veraci- 
ty, justice, and charity. Nor can those habits be formed by 
any external course of action, otherwise than as it proceeds 
from these principles ; because it is only these inward princi- 
ples exerted, which are strict^ acts of obedience, of veracity, 
of justice, and of charity. So, likevv-ise, habits of attention, in- 
dustry, self-government, are, in the same manner, acquired 
by exercise ; and habits of envy and revenge hy indulgence, 
whether in outward act or in thought and intention i. e. in- 
ward act ; for such intention is an act. Resolutions to 
do w^ell are properly acts : and endeavouring to enforce 
"upon our own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget in 
others that practical sense of it which a man really has 
himself, is a virtuous act. All these, therefore, may and will 
contribute towards forming good habits. But, going over 
the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and draw- 
ing fine pictures of it, this is so far from necessarily or cer- 
tainW conducing to form a habit of it in him who thus em- 
ploy's himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary 
course, and render it gradually' m.ore insensible, i. e. form 
a habit of insensibilitj^ to all moral considerations. For, 
from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being 
repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through 
the mind, are felt less sensibly ; being accustomed to danger, 
begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear ; to distress, lessens the 
passion of pitj^ ; to instances of others' mortality, lessens 
the sensible apprehension of our own. And from these tw^o 
observations together, that practical habits are formed and 
strengthened b}- repeated acts, and that passive impressions 
grow weaker by being repeated upon us, it must follow, 
that active habits may be graduallyT- forming and strength- 
ening, by a course of acting upon such and such motives 
and excitements, wliilst these motives and excitements, 
themselves are, by proportionable degrees, growing less sen- 
sible ; i. e. are continually less and less sensibly felt, even 
as the active habits strengthen. And experience confirms 
this ; for active principles, at the very time that they are 
less lively in perception than they were, are found to be 
some how wrought more thoroughly into the temper and 
character, and become more effectual in influencing our 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



171 



practice. The three things just menlioned may afford in- 
stances of it. Perception of danger is a natural excitement 
of passive fear, and active caution ; and, by being inured to 
danger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the 
same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception 
of distress in others is a natural excitement, passively to 
pity, and actively to relieve it ; but let a man set himself to 
attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he 
cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the va^- 
rious miseries of life, with which he must become acquain- 
ted ; when j^et, at the same time, benevolence, considered 
not as a passion, but as a practical principal of action, will 
strengthen; and, whilst he passively compassionates' the 
distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to 
assist and befriend them. So also at the same time that the 
daily instances of men's dying around us give us daily a 
less sensible passive feeling or apprehension of our own 
mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the strength- 
ening a practical regard to it in serious men ; i. e. to forming 
a habit of acting with a constant view to it. And this 
seems again further to show, that passive impressions made 
upon our minds by admonition, experience, example, though 
they may have a remote efficacy, and a very great one, to- 
wards forming active habits, yet can have this efficacy no 
otherwise than by inducing us to such a course of action ; 
and that it is, not being affected so and so, but acting, which 
forms those habits ; only it must be always remembered, 
that real endeavours to enforce good impressions upon our- 
selves, are a species of virtuous action. Nor do we know 
how far it is possible, in the nature of things, that effects 
should be wrought in us at once equivalent to habits, i. e. 
what is wrought by use and exercise. However, the thing 
insisted upon is, not what may be possible, but what is in fact 
the appointment of nature, which is, that active habits are 
to be formed by exercise. Their progress may be so gradu- 
al as to be imperceptible of its steps ; it m.ay be hard to ex- 
plain the faculty by which we are capable of habits, through- 
out its several parts, and to trace it up to its original, so as 
to distinguish it from all others in our mind ; and it seems as 
if contrary effects were to be ascribed to it. But the thing 
in general, that our nature is formed to yield, in some such 
manner as this, to use and exercise, is matter of certain ex- 
perience. 

Thus, by accustoming ourselves to any course of action 



172 



OF A STATE QF 



[part I, 



we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and olten 
pleasure in it. The inclinations vrhich rendered us averse 
to it grow weaker : the difficulties in it, not onlv the im- 
aginary, but the real ones, lessen ; the reasons for it offer 
themselves of course to our thoughts upon all occasions ; 
and the least ghmpse of them is sufficient to make us go 
on in a course of action to Vv'hich we have been accustomed. 
And practical principles appear to grow stronger absolutely 
in themselves, by exercise, as well as relatively, with regard 
to contrary principles ; whichj by being accustomed to sub- 
mit, do so habitually, and of course. And thus a new cha- 
racter, in several respects, may be formed "; and many habi- 
tudes of hfe, not given by nature, but which nature directs 
us to acquire. 

III. Indeed we maj^be assm'ed, that we should never have 
had these capacities of improvmg by experience, acquired 
knov.'ledge and habits, had they not been necessary, and in- 
tended to be made use of And, accordmgly, we find them 
so necessary, and so much intended, that without them we 
should be utterlj' incapable of that which was the end, for 
which we were made, considered in our temporal capacity 
only ; the employments and satisfactions of our mature 
state of life. 

Nat rue does in no Vv'ise quahfj' us wholly, much less at 
once, for this mattire state of hfe. Even maturity of under- 
standing and bodily strength are not only arrived to gradu- 
ally, but are also very much owing to the continued exer- 
cise of our powers of bod}^ and mind from infancy. But if 
we suppose a person brought into the world with both these 
in rnaturhj'. as far as this is conceivable, he would plainly 
at first be as unqualified for the human hfe of mature age, as 
an idiot. He would be m a nianner distracted with aston- 
ishment, and apprehension, and curiosity, and suspense ; 
Eor can one guess hovv- long it would be before he would be 
familiarized to him.self. and the objects about him, enough 
even to set himself to any thing. It may be questioned 
too. whether the natural information of his sight and hear- 
ing would be of any maimer of use at all to him in actmg, 
before experience. And it seems that men would be strange- 
ly headstrong and self-vrilled. and disposed to exert them- 
selves with an impetuosity which would render society in- 
supportable, and the living m it impracticable, were it not 
for some acquired moderation and self-government, some 
aptitude and readiness m restraining themselves, and con- 



CttAP. v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



173 



cealing their sense of things. Want of every thing of this 
kind which is learned, would render a man as incapable of 
societj as want of language would : or as his natural 
ignorance of any of the particular employments of life, would 
render him incapable of providing himself with the com- 
mon conveniences or supplying the necessary wants of it. 
In these respects, and prolDably in many more, of which we 
have no particular notion, mankind is left by nature an un- 
formed, unfinished creature, utterly deficient and unqualified, 
before the acquirement of knowledge, experience, and 
habits, for that mature state of life, which was the end of 
his creation, considering him as related only to this world. 

But then, as nature has endued us with a power of sup- 
plying those deficiencies, by acquired knowledge, experi- 
ence, and habits ; so, likewise, we are placed in a condition, 
in infancy, childhood, and youth, fitted for it : fitted for our 
acquiring those qualifications of all sorts, which we stand 
in need of in mature age. Hence children, from their very 
birth, are daily growing acquainted with the objects about 
them, with the scene in which they are placed, and to have 
a future part ; and learning somewhat or other, necessary 
to the performance of it. The subordinations, to which 
they are accustomed in domestic life, teach them self-gov- 
ernment in common behaviour abroad, and prepare them for 
subjection and obedience to civil authority. What passes 
before their eyes, and daily happens to them, gives them ex- 
perience, caution against treacherj^ and deceit, together with 
numberless little rules of action and conduct, w^hich we could 
not live without, and which are learned so insensibly and so 
perfectly, as to be mistaken perhaps for instinct ; though they 
are the effect of long experience and exercise : as much so as 
language, or knowledge in particular business, or the qualifi- 
cations and behaviour belonging to the several ranks and pro- 
fessions. Thus, the beginning of our days is adapted to be, 
and is, a state of education in the theory and practice of 
mature life. We are much assisted in it by example, in- 
struction^ and the care of others ; but a great deal is left to 
ourselves to do. And of this, as part is done easily and of 
course, so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary 
foregoing many things which we desire, and setting our- 
selves to what we should have no inclination to, but for the 
necessity or expedience of it. For that labor and industry 
which the station of so many absolutely requires, they would 
be greatly unqualified for in maturity, as those in other sta* 

15* 



174 



OF A STATE OF 



[part 



tions would be for any other sorts of application, if both wert 
not accustomed to them in their youth. And according as 
persons behave themselveSj in the general education which 
all go thi'ough, and in the particular ones adapted to parti- 
cular employments, their character is formed, and made ap- 
pear ; they recommend themselves m^ore or less ; and are 
capable of, and placed in, diixerent stations in the society of 
mankind. 

The former part of Hfe, then, is to be considered as an im- 
portant opportunity, which nature puts into our hands, and 
which, when lost, is not to be recovered. And our being 
placed in a state of discipline throughout this hfe, for another 
world, is a providential disposition of things, exactly of the 
same kind as our being placed in a state of discipHne during 
childhood, for mature age. Our condition in both respects 
is uniform and of a piece, and comprehended under one and 
the same general law of nature. 

And if we are not able at all to discern, how or in what 
way the present life could be our preparation for another, 
this would be no objection against the credibility of its being 
so. For we do not discern how food and sleep contribute 
to the growth of the body, nor could have any thought that 
they would, before we had experience. Nor do children at 
all think, on the one hand, that the sports and exercises, to 
which they are so much addicted, contribute to their health 
and growth ; nor, on the other, of the necessity which there 
is for theh being restramed in them ; nor are they capable 
of understanding the use of many parts of disciplme, which 
nevertheless they must be made to go through, in order to 
qualify them for the business of mature age. Were we not 
able, then, to discover in what respect the present life could 
form us for a futm^e one, yet nothing would be more sup- 
posible than that it might, m some respects or other, from the 
general analogy of Providence. And this, for aught I see, 
might reasonably be said, even though we should not take 
in the consideration of God's moral government over the 
world. But, 

IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that 
the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualification 
for the future state, and then we rnaj' distinctly see how, 
and in what respects, the present hfe may be a preparation for 
it ; since we loant. and arc capable of improvement in that char* 
acter^ by 'moral and religious habits ; and the preseiit life is fii 
to be a state of discipline for such improvement ; in like manner^ 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



175 



as we have already observed, how, and in what respects, 
infancy, childhood, and j^outh, are a necessary preparation, 
and a natural state of discipline, for mature age. 

Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the 
thought of a solitary inactive state hereafter, but, if we judge 
at all from the analogy of nature, we must suppose, accord- 
ing to the Scripture account of i", that it will be a communi- 
ty. And there is no shadow of any thing unreasonable in 
conceiving, though there be no analogy for it, that this com- 
munity will be, as the Scripture represents it, under the 
more immediate, or, if such an expression may be used, the 
more sensible government of God. Nor is our ignorance, 
what will be the employments of this happy community, 
nor our consequent ignorance, what particular scope or oc- 
casion there will be for the exercise of veracitj^, justice, and 
charity, amongst the members of it with regard to each 
other, any proof that there will be no sphere of exercise for 
those virtues. Much less, if that were possible, is our igno- 
rance any proof that there will be no occasion for that frame 
of mind, or character, which is formed by the daily practice 
of those particular virtues here, and which is a result from 
it. This at least must be owned in general, that as the go- 
vernment established in the universe is moral, the character 
of virtue and piety must, in some way or other, be the con- 
dition of our happin ess, or the qualification for it. 

Now, from what is above observed concerning our natu- 
ral power of habits, it is easy to see, that we are capable of 
moral imiprovement by discipline. And how greatly we 
loant it, need not be proved to any one who is acquainted 
with the great wickedness of mankind, or even with those 
imperfections which the best are conscious of But it is not 
perhaps distinctly attended to by every one, that the occa- 
sions which human creatures have for discipline, to improve 
in them this character of virtue and piety, is to be traced up 
higher than to excess in the passions, by indulgence and 
Jiabits of vice. Mankind, and perhaps all finite creatures, 
from the very constitution of their nature, before habits of 
virtue, are deficient, and in danger of deviating from what is 
right, and therefore stand in need of virtuous habits for a se- 
curity against this danger. For, together with the general 
piincipal of moral understanding, we have in our inward 
frame various affections towards particular external objects. 
These affections are naturally, and of right, subject to the 
government of the moral princiole, as to the occasions upon 



176 OF A STATE OF [PART 1, 

which they may be gratified, as to the timeSj degrees, and 
manner, in which the objects of them may be pursued ; but 
then the principle of virtue can neither excite them, nor pre- 
vent their being excited. On the contrary, they are natu- 
rally felt, when the objects of them are present to the mind, 
not only before all consideration w^hether they can be ob- 
tained by law^ful means, but after it is found they cannot. 
For the natural objects of affection continue so ; the neces- 
saries, conveniences, and pleasures of life, remain naturally 
desirable, though they cannot be obtained' innocently ; nay, 
though they cannot possibly be obtained at all. And w^hen 
the objects of any affection whatever cannot be obtained 
without unlaw^fu] means, but may be obtained by them, such 
affection, though its being excited, and its continuing some 
time in the mind, be as innocent as it is natural and necessa- 
ry, yet cannot but be conceived to have a tendency to in- 
cline persons to venture upon such unlawful means, and 
therefore must be conceived as putting them in some danger 
of it. Now, what is the general security against this dan- 
ger, against their actually deviating fi'om right 1 as the 
danger is, so also must the security be, from within, from the 
practical principle of virtue."^ And the strengthening or 
hnproving this principle, considered as practical, or as a 
principle of action, will lessen the danger or increase the se- 
curity against it. And this moral principle is capable of 
improvement, by proper discipline and exercise ; by recol- 
lecting the practical impressions which example and expe- 
rience have made upon us ; and, instead of following humor 
and mere iE<dination, by continually attending to the equity 
and right of the case, in whatever Vv^e are engaged, be it in 

* It may be thought that a sense of interest would as effectually restrain 
creatures from doing wrong. But if h}^ a sense of interest is meant, a 
speculative conviction or belief that such and such indulgence would occa- 
sion them greater uneasiness, upon the whole, than satisfaction, it is con- 
trary to present experience to say. that this sense of interest is sufficient to 
restrain them from thus indulging themselves. And if by a sense of in- 
terest is meant, a practical regard to what is upon the whole our happi- 
ness, this is not only coincident with the principle of \irtue or moral recti- 
tude, but is a part of the idea itself. And it is evident this reasonable self- 
love wants to be improved, as really as any principle in our nature. For 
we daily see it overmatched, not only by the more boisterous passions, but 
by curiosity, shame, love of imitation, by any thing, even indolence : espe- 
cially if the interest, the temporal interest, suppose, which is the end of 
such self-love, be at a distance. So greatly are profligate men mistaken, 
when they affirm they are wholly governed by interestedness and self-love : 
And so httle cause is there for moralists to disclaim this" principle. See 
V?, 133, 124. 

( 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



greater or less matters, and accustoming om*selves always 
to act upon it, as being itself the just and naturail motive of 
action ; and as this moral course of behaviour must neces- 
sarily, under divine government, be our final interest. Thus 
the principle of virtue^ ijiiproved into a hahit^ of xohich improve- 
meat lue are thus capable^ ivill plainly be, in proportion to the, 
strength of it^ a security against the danger which finite crea- 
tures are in, from the very nature of propension, or particular 
affections. Tliis way of putting the matter supposes parti- 
cular affections to remain in a future state, which it is scarce 
possible to avoid supposing. And if they do, we clearly 
see, that acquired habits of virtue and self-government may 
be necessary for the regulation of ihem. However, though 
we were not distinctly to take in this supposition, but to 
speak only in general, the thing realty c-omes to the same. 
For habits of virtue, thus acquired by discipline, are improve- 
ment in virtue ; and improvement in virtue must be advance- 
ment in happiness, if the government of the universe be moraL 
From these things we may observe, and it will farther 
show this our natural and original need of being improved 
by discipline, how it comes to pass, that creatures, made up- 
right, fail ; and that those who preserve their uprightness, 
by so doing, raise themselves to a more secure state of vir- 
tue. To say that the former is accounted for by the nature 
of liberty, is to say no more than that an event's actually 
happening is accounted for by a mere possibility of its hap- 
pening. But it seems distinctly conceiv able from the veiy 
nature of particular aifections or propensions. For, sup- 
pose creatures intended for such a particular state of life, 
for which such propensions were necessary ; suppose them 
endued with such propensions, together with moral imder- 
standing, as well including a practical sense of virtue as a 
speculative perception of it : and that all these several prin- 
ciples, both natural and moral, forming an inward constitu- 
tion of mind, were in the most exact proportion possible, i. e. 
in a proportion the most exactly adapted to their intended 
state of life ; such creatures would be made upright, or finite- 
ly perfect. Now, particular propensions, from their very 
nature, must be felt, the objects of them being present, though 
they cannot be gratified at all, or not with the allowance ot 
the moral piinciple. But if they can be gratified without 
its allowance, or by contradicting it, then they must be con- 
ceived to have some tendency, in how low a degree soever, 
yet some tendency, to induce persons to such forbidden 



ITS OF A STATE OF [PART L 

gi'atification. This tendency, in some one particular pro- 
pension, may be increased, hy the greater fi'equency of oc- 
casions natm*ally exciting it, than of occasions exciting 
others. The least voluntarj' indulgence in forbidden cir- 
cumstances, though but in thought, will increase this wrong 
tendency, and may increase it further, till, peculiar conjec- 
tures perhaps conspiring, it becomes effect ; and danger of 
deviating from right, ends in actual deviation from it : a dan- 
ger necessarily arising fi'om the very natiue of propension, 
and which, therefore, could not have been prevented, though 
it might have been escaped, or got innocently through. The 
case would be, as if w^e werp. to suppose a straight path 
marked out for a person, in which such a degree of attention 
would keep him steady ; but if he would not attend in this 
degree, any one of a thousand objects catching his eye, might 
lead him out of it. Now, it is impossible to say, how much 
even the fii'st full overt act of irregularity might disorder the 
inward constitution, unsettle the adjustments, and alter the 
proportions wliich formed it^ and in which the uprightness 
of its make consisted. But repetition of iiTegularities would 
produce habits : and thus the constitution would be spoiled, 
and creatures, made upright, become corrupt and depraved 
in theii' settled character, proportionably to their repeated 
irregularities in occasional acts. But, on the contrary, these 
creatures might have improved aiid raised themselves to a 
higher and more secure state of "virtue, by the contrary be- 
haviour, by steadih^ following the moral principle, supposed 
to be one part of iheir nature, and thus notwithstanding that 
unavoidable danger of defection, which necessarilj^ arose 
fi'om propension, the other part of it. For, hy thus preserv- 
ing their integrity for some time, theii' danger would lessen, 
since propensions, by being inured to submit, would do it 
more easil}^ and of course ; and then* secmity against this 
lessening danger would increase, since the moral prmciple 
would gain additional strength by exercise ; both which 
things are implied in the notion of virtuous habits. Thus, 
then, vicious indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also 
depraves the inward constitution and character. And yix- 
tuous self-government is not only right in itself, but also im- 
proves the inward constitution or character ; and may im- 
prove it to such a degree, that though we should suppose it 
impossible for particular affections to be absolutely coinci- 
dent with the moral principle, and consequently should al- 
low, that such creatures as have been above supposed would 

i 



CHAP. V,] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



179 



for ever remain defectible ; yet their danger of actually de- 
viating from right may be almost infinitely lessened, and 
they fully fortified against what remains of it ; if that may 
be called danger, against which there is an adequate effec- 
tual security. But still, this their higher perfection may 
continue to consist in habits of virtue formed in a state of 
discipline, and this their more complete security remain to 
proceed from them. And thus it is plainly conceivable, tha', 
creatures without blemish, as they came out of the haniis 
of God, may be in danger of going wrong, and so may stand 
in need of the security of virtuous habits, additional to the 
moral principle w^rought into their natures by him. That 
which is the ground of their danger, or their want of securi- 
ty, may be considered as a deficiency in them, to w^hich vir- 
tuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are nat- 
urally capable of being raised and improved by discipline, it 
may be a thing fit and requisite, that they should be placed 
in circumstances with an ej^e to it ; in circumstances pecu- 
liarly fitted to be, to them, a state of discipline for their im- 
provement in TOtue. 

But how much more strong must this hold with respect to 
those who have corrupted their natures, are fallen from their 
original rectitude, and whose passions are become excessive 
by repeated violations of their invv^ard constitution Up- 
right creatures may "want to be improved : depraved crea- 
tures want to be renewed. Education and discipline, w^hich 
may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and of severi* 
ty, is expedient for those ; but must be absolutely necessary 
for these. For these, diciplme, of the severer sort too, and 
in the higher degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to 
wear out vicious habits ; to recover their primitive strength 
of self-government, w^iich indulgence must have w^eakened ; 
to repair, as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle, in 
order to their aniving at a secure state of virtuous happiness. 

Now", whoever will consider the thing may clearly see, 
that the present world is peculiarly Jit to be a state of disci- 
pline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves to mend 
and improve. For, the various temptations with which we 
are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wicked- 
ness ; having been in man}^ instances led wrong ourselves ; 
the great viciousness of the w^orld ; the infinite disorders 
consequent upon it ; our being made acquainted with pain 
and sorrow, either from our own feeling of it, or from the 
sight of it in others ; these things, though some of them may 



180 



OF A STATE OF 



[part, r. 



indeed produce wrong effects upon our minds, yet, v/hen du- 
ly reflected upon, have all of them a direct tendency to bring 
us to a settled moderation and reasonableness of temper ; the 
contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to that unre- 
strained self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclina- 
tion, which may be observed in undisciplined minds. Such 
experience, as the present state affords, of the frailty of our 
nature^ of the boundless extravagance of ungoverned pas- 
sion, of the power which an infinite Being has over us, by 
the various capacities of misery which he has given us ; in 
short, that kind and degree of experience which the present 
state affords us, that the constitution of nature is such as to 
admit the possibility, the danger, and the actual event, of 
creatures losing their innocence and happiness, and becom- 
ing vicious, and wretched ; hath a tendency to give a prac- 
tical sense of things very different from a mere speculative 
knowledge, that we arc liable to vice, eaid capable of misery. 
And who knows, whether the security of creatures in the 
highest and most settled state of perfection, may not, in part, 
arise from their having had such a sense of things as this, 
formed, and habitually fixed within them, in some state of 
probation ? And passing through the present world with 
that moral attention which is necessary to the acting a right 
part in it, may leave everlasting impressions of this sort up- 
on our minds. But to be a little more distinct : allurements 
to what is wrong ; difficulties in the discharge of our duty ; 
our not being a.ble to act a uniform right part without some 
thought and care ; and the opportunities which we have, or 
imagine we have, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining 
what we desire, by unlawful means, when we either cannot 
do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful ones ; these 
things, i. e. the snares and temptations of vice, are what ren- 
der the present world pecuharly fit to be a state of discipline 
to those who will preserve their integrity ; because they ren- 
der being upon our guard, resolution, and the denial of our 
passions, necessary in order to that end. And the exercise 
of such particular recollection, intention of mind, and self- 
government, in the practice of virtue, has, from the make of 
our nature, a peculiar tendency to form habits of virtue, as 
implying not only a real, but also a more continued, and a 
more intense exercise of the virtuous principle ; or a more 
constant and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act. 
Thus, suppose a person to know himself to be in particular 
danger, for some time, of doing any thing wrong, which yet 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



ISl 



he fully resolves not to do, continued recollection, and keep* 
ine: upon his guard, in order to make good his resolution, is 
a ^continued exerting of that act of virtue in a high degree^ 
which need have been, and perhaps would have been, only 
instantaneous and -weak, had the temptation been so. It is 
indeed ridiculous to assert, that self-denial is essential to vii 
tue and piety : but it would have been nearer the truth, 
though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, that it is es- 
sential to discipline and improvement. For, though actions 
materially vii'tuous, wliich have no sort of difficulty, but are 
perfectly agreeable to our particular inclinations, may possi- 
bly be done only from these particular inclinations, and so 
may not be any exercise of the principle of vhtue, i. e. not 
be virtuous actions at ail : yet, on the contrary, they may be 
an exercise of that principle, and, when they are, they have 
a tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue. But when 
the exercise of the virtuous prtitti; It ttttre continued, of- 
tener repeated, and more mtei:?r, : s tt iv.ttst be in circum- 
stances of danger, teraptaiion. :.tt:; -.'tiiiculty. of any kind 
and in any degree, tlrt? teirtlencv t- ttttrt :.tet' propordonably, 
and a more cc:t-trttt:;l hti'tit is the t :tt-e : tettte 

This undoubtedh' hcLds to a certain length, but how far it 
may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual powers, nor 
our bodily strength, can be improved I eyond such a degree ; 
and both may be over-wrought, Possibly there may be 
somewhat analogorts -c- this, vith respeot to the moral char- 
acter : whicir is soarce worth coitsiheriitg. Audi mention 
it only, le=: it sireuld come into -oirte persotrs tht vghts. not 
as an exoeption to the foregoing observations, which per- 
haps it is, but as a confutation of them, which it is not. 
And there may be several other exceptions. Observations 
of this kind cannot be supposed to hold minutel}-, and ir 
every case. It is enough that they hold in general. And 
these plainly hold so faf , as that from them may be seen dis- 
tincth', which is all that is intended by them, that the pre- 
sent world is peculiarly fit to he a state of discipline for our m- 
prove/neni in virtue and piety ; in the same sense as some 
sciences, by reqraiing and engaging the attention, not to be 
sure of such persons as will not. but of such as will, set 
themselves to them, are fit to form the ntdnd to habits of 
attention. 

Indeed, the present state is so far nom pro^ing, in event, 
a disciphne of vhtue to the generahty of men, that, on the 
contrary, they seem to make it a disciphne of rice. And 

16 



182 



OF A STATE OF 



[part I. 



the idciousness of the world is, in different ways, the great 
temptation, which renders it a state of vii'tuous discipline, in 
the degree it is, to good men. The whole end, and the 
whole occasion of mankind being placed in such a state as 
the present, is not pretended to be accoimted for. That 
which appears amidst the general corrnption is, that there 
are some persons, who, having ^viihin them the principle of 
amendment and recovery, attend to and follow the notices of 
virtue and religion, be they more clear or more obscure, 
which are afforded them ; and that the present world is, not 
only an exercise of virtue in these persons, but an exercise 
of it in ways and degrees peculiarly apt to improve it; apt 
to improve it, in some respects, even beyond what would be 
by the exercise of it required in a perfectly virtuous society, 
or in a society of equally imperfect virtue with themselves. 
But that the present world does not actually become a state 
of moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e. that 
they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot be urged as 
a proof that it was not intended for moral discipline, by any 
who at all observe the analogy of nature. For of the nu- 
merous seeds of vegetables and bodies of animals, which 
are adapted and put in the way, to improve to such a point 
or state of natural maturity and perfection, w^e do not see 
perhaps that one in a million actually does. Far the great- 
est part of them decay before they are improved to it, and 
appear to be absolutely destroyed. Yet no one, who does 
not deny all final causes, will deny, that those seeds and bo- 
dies which do attain to that point of maturity and perfection, 
answer the end for which they were really designed by na- 
ture ; and therefore that nature designed them for such per- 
fection. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to the 
present purpose, that the appearance of such an amazing 
^vaste in nature, with respect to these seeds and bodies, by 
foreign causes, is to us as luiaccountable, as, what is much 
more terrible, the present and future ruin of so many moral 
agents by themselves, i. e. by vice. 

Against this whole notion of moral discipline it may be 
objected, in another way, that so far as a course of beha- 
viour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and fear, so 
far it is only a discipline and strengthening of self-love. But 
doing what God commands, because he commands it, is 
obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a 
course of such obedience will form habits of it ; and a con- 
stant regard to veracity, justice, and charity, may form dis- 



CHAP, v.] 



MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



183 



tinct habits of these particular virtues, and will certainlj^ 
form habits of self-governmentj and of denying our inclina- 
tions, whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. Nor 
is there any foundation for this great nicety, with w^hich 
some affect to distinguish in this case, in order to depreciate 
all religion proceeding from hope or fear. For veracity, jus- 
tice, and charity, regard to God's authority, and to our own 
chief interest, are not only all three coincident, but each of 
them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle of 
action. And he who begins a good life from any one of 
them, and perseveres in it, as he has already in some degree, 
so he cannot fail of becoming more and more of that cha- 
racter, which is correspondent to the constitution of nature 
as moral, and to the relation which God stands in to us as 
moral governor of it ; nor, consequently, can he fail of ob- 
taining that happiness, which this constitution and relation 
necessarily supposes connected with that character. 

These several observations, concerning the active princi- 
ple of virtue and obedience to God's commands, are applica- 
ble to passive submission or resignation to his will ; which 
is another essential part of a right character, connected with 
the former, and very much in our power to form ourselves 
to. It may be imagined, that nothing but afflictions can 
give occasion for or require this virtue ; that it can have no 
respect to, nor be any way necessary to qualify for a state 
of perfect happiness ; but it is not experience which can 
make us think thus : Prosperity itself, whilst any thing sup- 
posed desirable is not ours, begets extravagant and unboun- 
ded thoughts. Imagination is altogether as much a source 
of discontent as any thing in our external condition. It is 
indeed true, that there can be no scope for patience, when 
sorrow shall be no more ; but there may be need of a tem- 
per of mind, which shall have been formed by patience. 
For, though self-love, considered merely as an active princi- 
ple leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be 
uniformly coincident w4th the principle of obedience to God's 
commands, our interest being rightly understood ; because 
this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief interest, 
must be, in every case, one and the same thing ; yet it may 
be questioned, whether self-love, considered merely as the 
desire of our own interest or happiness, can, from its nature, 
be thus absolute and uniformly coincident with the will of 
God, any more than particular affection can coincident in 



♦ Page 127. 



184 



OP A STATE OP 



[part 1 



such sort, as not to be liable to be excited upon occasions, 
and in degrees, impossible to be gratified consistently with 
the constitution of things, or the divine appointments. So 
that hoMts of resignation may, upon this account, be requi- 
site for all creatures ; habits, I say, which signify what is 
formed by use. However, in general, it is obvious, that 
both self love and particular affections in human creatures, 
considered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the 
mind, and therefore stand in need of discipline. Now, deni- 
al of those particulpa' affections, in a course of active virtue 
and obedience to God's will has a tendency to moderate 
them, and seems also to have a tendency to habituate the 
miind to be eas}^ and satisfied with that degree of happiness 
which is alloted to us, i. e. to moderate self love. But the 
proper discipline for resignation is affiiction. For a right 
behaviour ander that trial, recollecting ourselves so as to 
consider it in the view in which religion teaches us to consi- 
der it, as from the hand of God ; receiving it as what he 
appoints, or thinks proper to permit, in his world and under 
his government, this will habituate the mind to a dutiful 
submission ; and such submission, together with the active 
principle of obedience, make up the temper and character 
in us which answers to his sovereignty, and which absolute- 
ly belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent crea- 
tures. Nor can it be said, that this is only brealdng the 
mind to a submission to mere power, for mere power may 
be accidental, and precarious, and usurped ; but it is form- 
ing within ourselves the temper of resignation to his right- 
ful authority, who is, b}^ nature, supreme over all. 

Upon the whole, such a character, and such quahfica- 
tions, are necessary for a mature state of life in the present 
world, as nature alone does in no wise bestow, but has put 
it upon us in great part to acquire, in our progress from one 
stage of life to another, from childhood to mature age ; put 
it upon us to acquire them, by giving us capacities of doing 
it and by placing us, in the beginning of life, in a condition 
fit for it. And this is a general analogy to our condition in 
the present world, as in a state of moral discipline for anoth- 
er. It is in vain, then, to object against the credibility of 
the present life being intended for this purpose, that all the 
trouble and the danger unavoidably accompanying such 
discipline might have been saved us, by our being made at 
once the creatures and the characters ivhich lue xoere to he. 
For we experienccj that what ive were to be^ was to be the 



CHAP, v.] 



MOHAL DISCIPLINE. 



185 



effect of \ohai we loould do ; and that the general conduct of 
nature is, not to save us trouble or danger, but to make us 
capable of going through them, and to put it upon us to do 
so. Acquirements of our own experience and habits, are 
the natural supply to our deficiencies, and security against 
our dangers ; since it is as plainly natural to set ourselves to 
acquire the qualifications as the external things which we 
stand in need of In particular, it is as plainly a general 
law of nature, that we should, with regard to our temporal 
interest, form and cultivate practical principles within us, 
by attention, use, and discipline, as any thing whatever is a 
natural law ; chiefly in the begining of life, but also through 
out the whole course of it. And the alternative is left to 
our choice, either to improve ourselves and better our condi- 
tion, or, in default of such improvement, to remain deficient 
and wretched. It is therefore perfectly credible, from the 
analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, Vvith re- 
spect to the happiness of a future state and the qualifica- 
tions necessary for it. 

There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the 
present w^orld being a state of probation, that it is a thea* 
tre of action for the manifestatk)n of persons' characters, 
wdth respect to a future one ; not, to be sure, to an all-know- 
ing Being, but to his creation, or part of it. This may, 
perhaps, be only a consequence of our being in a state of 
probation in the other senses. However, it is not impossi- 
ble that men's showing and making manifest what is in their 
heart, what their real character is, may have respect to a 
future life, in ways and manners which we are not acquain- 
ted with ; particularly it may be a means, for the Author of 
nature does not appear to do any thing without means, of 
their being disposed of suitably to their characters, and of 
its being known to the creation, by way of example, that 
they are thus disposed of But not to enter upon any con- 
jectural account of this, one may just mention, that the 
manifestation of persons' characters contributes very much, 
In various waj^s, to the carrjdng on a great part of that gene- 
lal course of nature respeating mankind, w^hich comes, un- 
♦ler our observation at present. I shall only add, that pro- 
bation, in both these senses, as w^ell as in that treated of icx 
the foregoing chapter, is imiplied in moral government ; 
ijince by persons' behaviour under it, their characters cannot 
but be manifested, and if they behave well, improved. 

10* 



186 



OP THE OPINION OF NECESSITY. [PART L 



CHAPTER VI. 

Of the opinion of Necessity^ considered as influencing 
Practice, 

Throughout the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the 
condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this 
world only, and nnder the government of God which we 
experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as design- 
ed for another world, or under that farther government which 
religion teaches us. If, therefore, any assert, as a fatalist 
must, that the opinion of universal necessity is reconcilable 
with the former, there immediately arises a question in the 
way of analogy ; whether he must not also own it to be 
reconcilable with the latter, i. e. with the system of rehgion 
itself, and the proof of it. The reader, then, will observe, 
that the question now before us, is not absolute, whether the 
opinion of fate be reconcilable with religion ; but hypotheti- 
cal, whether, upon supposition of its being reconcilable with 
the constitution of nature, it be not reconcilable with reli- 
gion also ? or, what pretence a fatalist, — not other persons, 
but a fatalist — has to conclude, from his opinion, that there 
can be no such thing as religion ? And as the puzzle and 
obscurity, which must unavoidably arise from arguing upon 
so absurd a supposition as that of universal necessity, will, 
I fear, easily be seem, it will, I hope, as easily be excused. 

But since it has oeen all along taken for granted, as a 
'.hing proved, that there is an intelligent Author of nature, 
or natural Governor of the world ; and since an objection 
may be made against the proof of this, from the opinion of 
universal necessity, as it may be supposed that such necessi- 
ty will itself account for the origin and preservation of all 
things, it is requisite that this objection be distinctly answer- 
ed ; or that it be shown, that a fatality, supposed consistent 
with what we certainly experience, does not destroy the 
I'xoof of an intelligent Author and Governor of nature, be- 



CHAP. VI.] 



AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



187 



fore we proceed to consider, whether it destroys the proof of 
a mora] Governor of it, or of our being in a state of 
religion. 

Now when it is said by a fatalist, that the whole constitu- 
tion of nature, and the actions of men, that every thing and 
every mode and circumstance of every thing, is necessary, and 
could not possibly have been otherwise, it is to be observed, 
that this necessity does not exclude deliberation, choice, 
preference, and acting from certain principles, and to certain 
ends ; because all this is matter of undoubted experience, 
acknowledged by all, and what every man may, every mo- 
ment, be conscious of And from hence it follows, that ne- 
cessity, alone and of itself, is in no sort an account of the 
constitution of nature, and how things came to he and to con- 
ti:iue as they are ; but only an account of this circumstance 
relating to their origin and continuance, that they could not 
have been otherwise than they are and have been. The as- 
sertion, that every thing is by necessity of nature, is not an 
answer to the question. Whether the world came into being 
as it is by an intelligent Agent forming it thus, or not ; but 
to quite another question. Whether it came into being as it 
is, in that way and manner which we call necessarily j or in 
that way and manner which we call freely. For, suppose 
farther, that one, who was a fatalist, and one, who kept to 
his natural sense of things, and believed himself a free agent, 
were disputing together, and vindicating their respective 
opinions, and they should happen to instance in a house, 
they would agree that it was built by an architect. Their 
difference concerning necessity and freedom, would occasion 
no difference of judgment concerning this, but only concern- 
ing another matter, whether the architect built it necessarily 
or freely. Suppose, then, they should proceed to inquire, 
concerning the constitution of nature ; in a lax way of speak- 
ing, one of them might say, it w^as by necessity, and the 
other by freedom ; but, if they had any meaning to their 
words, as the latter must mean a free agent, so the former 
must at length be reduced to mean an agent, whether he 
would say one or more, acting by necessity ; for abstract no- 
tions can do nothing. Indeed, we ascribe to God a neces- 
sary existence, uncaused by any agent. For we find with- 
in ourselves the idea of infinity, i. e, immensity and eternity, 
impossible, even in imagination, to be removed out of being. 
We seem to discern intuitivel}', that there must, and cannot 
but be, somewhat, external to ourselves, answering this idea, 



188 



OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. 



or the archetype of it. And from hence (for this abstract^ as 
much as any other, imphes a concrete) we conckide, that there 
is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense eternal Being 
existing prior to all design contributing to his existence, and 
exclusive of it. And, from the scantiness of language, a 
manner of speaking has been introduced, that necessity is 
the foundation, the reason, the account of the existence o'f 
God. But it is not alledged, nor can it be at all intended, 
that evenj thing exists as it does by this kind of necessity, 
a necessity antecedent in nature to design ; it cannot, I say, 
be meant, that every thing exists as it does, by this kind of 
necessity, upon several accounts ; and particularly, because 
it is admitted, that design in the actions of men, contributes 
to many alterations in nature. For, if anj^ deny this, I shall 
not pretend to reason with them. 

From these things it follows, first^ That when a fatalist 
asserts that every thing is hij necessity , he must mean, bij an 
agent acting necessarily ; he must, I say, mean this ; for I 
am very sensible he would not choose to mean it. And, 
secondly y That the necessity, by which such an agent is sup- 
posed to act, does not exclude intelligence and design. So 
that, were the system of fatality admitted, it would just as 
much account for the formation of the world, as for the struc 
ture of a house, and no more. Necessity as much requires 
and supposes a necessary agent, as freedom requires and 
supposes a free agent to be the former of the world. And 
the appearance of design and of Jinal causes in the constitu- 
tion of nature, as really prove this acting agent to be an in- 
telligent designer^ or to act fi'om choice, upon the scheme of 
necessity, supposed possible, as upon that of freedom. 

It appearing thus, that the notion of necessity does not 
destroy the proof, that there is an intelligent Author of nature 
and natural Governor of the world, the present question which 
the analogy before mentioned* suggests, and which, I think, 
it will answer, is this : whether the opinion of necessity, 
suppose consistent with possibility, with the constitution of 
the world, and the natiual government which we experi- 
ence exercised over it, destroys all reasonable ground of be- 
lief, that we are in a state of religion ; or w^hether that opin- 
ion be reconcilable with religion, with the system and the 
proof of it. 

Suppose, then, a fatalist to educate any one, from hia 
* Page 152, 



CHAP. VI.] 



AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



1S9 



his youth up in his own principles ; that the child should rea- 
son upon ti:3ni, and conclude, that since he cannot possibly 
behave otherwise than he doeS; he is not a subject of blame 
or commendation, nor can deserve to be rewarded or punish- 
ed : imagine him to eradicate the very perceptions of blame 
and commendation out of his mind, by means of this sj^stem ; 
to form his temper, and character, and behaviour to it ; and 
fi'om it to judge of the treatment he was to expect, say, from 
reasonable men, upon his coming abroad into the world, as 
the fatalist judges from this system, what he is to expect 
from the Author of nature, and with regard to a future state : 
T cannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of 
common sense would think fit, that a child should be put 
upon these speculations, and be left to appl}^ them to prac- 
tice 1 and a man has httle pretence to reason, who is not 
sensible that we are all children in speculations of this kind. 
However, the child would doubtless be highly dehghted to 
find himself freed fi'om the restraints of fear and shame, with 
which his play-fellows were fettered and embarrassed : and 
highly conceited in his superior knowledge, so far beyond 
his years. But conceit and vanity would be the least bad 
part of the influence which these principles must have, when 
thus reasoned and acted upon, during the course of his edu- 
cation. He must either be allowed to go on, and be the 
^plague of all about him, and himself too, even to his own 
destruction, or else correction must be continuallj^ made use 
of, to supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame 
and commendation, w^hich we have supposed to be removed, 
and to give him a practical impression of what he had rea- 
soned himself out of the belief of, that he was, m fact, an 
accountable child, and to be punished for doing Vv'hat he was 
forbid. It is therefore in reality impossible, but that the cor- 
rection which he must meet with, in the course of his edu- 
cation, must convince him, that if the scheme he was in- 
structed in were not false, yet that he reasoned inconclusive. . 
ly upon it, and, somehow or other, misapplied it to practice 
and common life ; as what the fatahst experiences of the 
conduct of Providence at present, ought in all reason, to con- 
vince him, that this scheme is misapphed, when applied to 
tJie subject of rehgion.^ But, supposing the child's tem- 
per could remain still formed to the sj^stem, and his expecta- 
tion of the treatment he was to have in the world be regula- 



♦ Page 166. 



190 



OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [pART» I. 



ted by it, so as to expect that no reasonable man would blame 
or punish him for any thing which he should do, because 
he could not help doing it ; upon this supposition, it is mani- 
fest he would, upon his coming abroad into the world, be in- 
supportable to society, and the treatment w^hich he would 
receive from it, would render it so to him ; and he could not 
fa.il of doing somewhat very soon, for which he would be de- 
livered over into the hands of civil justice : and thus, in the 
end, he would be convinced of the obligations he was under 
to his wise instructer. Or suppose this scheme of fatalit}^, 
in any other way, applied to practice, such practical appli- 
cation of it will be found equally absurd, equally fallacious 
in a practical sense. For instance, that if a man be destined 
to live such a time, he shall live to it, though he take no 
care of his own preservation ; or if he be destined to die be- 
fore that time, no care can prevent it ; therefore, all care 
about preserving one's life is to be neglected : which is the 
fallacy instanced in by the ancients. But now, on the con- 
trary, none of these practical absurdities can be drawn, from 
reasoning upon the supposition, that we are free ; but all 
such reasoning, with regard to the common affairs of life, is 
justified by experience. And, therefore, though it w^ere ad- 
mitted that this opinion of necessity were speculatively true, 
yet, with regard to practice, it is as if it were false, so far as 
our experience reaches ; that is, to the whole of our present 
life. For, the constitution of the present world, and the con- 
dition in which we are actually placed, is as if we were free. 
And it may perhaps justly be concluded, that since the whole 
process of action, through every step of it, suspense, delibe- 
ration, inclining one way, determining, and at last doing as 
we determine, is as if w^ere free, therefore we are so. But 
the thing here insisted upon is, that under the present na- 
tural government of the world, w^e find we are treated and 
dealt with as if we were free, prior to all consideration wheth- 
er we are or not. Were this opinion therefore, of necessity, 
admitted to be ever so true, yet such is in fact our condition 
and the natural course of things, that, whenever we apply 
it to life and practice, this application of it always misleads 
us, and cannot but mislead us, in a most dreadful manner, 
with regard to our present interest. And how can people 
think themselves so very secure then, that the same appli- 
cation of the same opinion may not mislead them also in 
some analogous manner, with respect to a future, a more 
general, and more important interest 1 For, religion being 



CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



191 



a practical subject, and the analogy of nature showing us, 
that we have not faculties to apply this opinion, were it a 
true one, to practical subjects ; whenever we do apply it to 
the subject of rehgion, and then conclude, that we are free 
from its obligations, it is plain this conclusion cannot be de- 
pended upon. There will still remain just reason to think, 
whatever appearances are, that we deceive ourselves ; in 
somewhat of a like manner as when people fancy they can 
draw contradictory conclusions from the idea of infinity. 

From these things together, the attentive reader will se% 
it follows, that if, upon supposition of freedom, the evidence 
of religion be conclusive, it remains so, upon supposition of 
necessity ; because the notion of necessity is not applica- 
ble to practical subjects ; i. e. with respect to them, is as if 
it were not true. Nor does this contain any reflection upon 
reason, but only upon what is unreasonable. For, to pre- 
tend to act upon reason, in opposition to practical principles 
which the Author of our nature gave us to act upon, and to 
pretend to apply our reason to subjects with regard to which 
our own short views, and even our experience, will show us 
it cannot be depended upon, — and such, at best, the subject 
of necessity must be, — this is vanity, conceit, and unrea 
sonableness. 

But this is not all. For we find within ourselves a will 
and are conscious of a character. Now, if this, m us, be 
reconcilable with fate, it is reconcilable with it in the Author 
of nature. And, besides, natural government and final 
causes imply a character and a will in the Governor and 
Designer a will concerning the creatuies whom he gov- 
erns. The Author of nature, then, being certainly of some 
character or other, notwithstanding necessity, it is evident 
this necessity is as reconcilable with the particular character 
of benevolence, veracity and justice, in him, which attri- 
butes are the foundation of religion, as with any other char- 
acter ; since w^e find this necessity no more hinders men from 
being benevolent than cruel ; true, than faithless ; just, than 
unjust, or, if the fatalist pleases, what we call unjust. For 
it is said indeed, that what, upon supposition of freedom, 
would be just punishment, upon supposition of necessity, 
becomes manifestly unjust ; because it is punishment inflic- 

* By will and character is meant that, which, in speaking of men, we 
should express, not only by these words, but also by the words temper, 
taste J dispositions^ practical principles ; that ickole frame cf mind^Jrom 
%che7ice we act in one manner rather than another. 



192 OP THE OPI^HON OF NECESSITY, [PART I. 



ted for doing that which persons could not avoid doing. As 
if the necessit}^, which is supposed to destroj^ the injustice 
of murder, for instancCj would not also destroj^ the injustice 
of punishing it. However, as little to the purpose as this 
objection is in itself, it is very much to the purpose to observe 
from it, how the notions of justice and injustice remain, 
even whilst we endeavour to suppose them removed ; how 
they force themselves upon the mind, even whilst we are 
making suppositions destructive of them : for there is not, 
perhaps, a man in the world, but would be ready to make 
this objection at first thought. 

But though it is most evident, that universal necessity, if 
it be reconcilable v/ith any thing, is reconcilable with that 
character in the Author of nature, which is the foundation 
of rehgion ; 'yet, does it not plainly destroy the proof, that 
he is of that character, and consequently the proof of reli- 
gion V By no means. For we find, that happiness and 
misery are not our fate, in any such sense as not to be the 
consequences of our behaviour, but that they are the conse- 
quences of it.^ We find God exercises the same kind of 
government over us, with that which a father exercises over 
his children, and a civil magistrate over his subjects. Now, 
whatever becomes of abstract questions concerning Hberty 
and necessity, it evidently appears to us, that veracity and 
justice must be the natural rule and measure of exercising 
this authority, or government, to a Being, who can have no 
competitions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures 
and his subjects, 

But as the doctrine of liberty, though we experience its 
truth, may be perplexed with difficulties which run up into 
the most abstruse of all speculations, and as the opinion of 
necessity seems to be the very basis upon which infidelity 
grounds itself, it may be of some use to offer a more parti- 
cular proof of the obligations of religion, which may dis- 
tinctly be shown not to be destroyed by this opinion. 

The proof, fi'om final causes, of an intelligent Author of 
nature, is not affected by the opinion of necessity ; suppo- 
sing necessity a thing possible in itself, and reconcilable 
with the constitution of things. | And it is a matter of fact, 
independent on this or any other speculation, that he gov- 
erns the world by the method of rewards and punish- 
ments ; J and also that he hath given us a moral faculty, by 



♦Chap. 2. 
tPage 153, &c. 



CHAP. VI.] 



AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



193 



which we distinguish between actions, and approve some as 
nrtuous and of good desert, and disapprove others as vicious 
and of ill desert.^ Now", this moral discernment implies, in 
the notion of it, a rule of action, and a rule of a very pecu- 
liar kind : for it carries in it authority and a right of direc- 
tion ; authority in such a sense, as that we cannot depart 
from it without being self-condemned. y And that the dic- 
tates of this moral faculty, which are by nature a rule to 
us, are moreover the lavvs of God. laws m a sense including 
sanctions maybe thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or 
guide of action, in creatures who are capable of considering 
it as given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately 
a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in following it, 
and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of the Au- 
thor of nature, given to creatures capable of looking upon 
it as such, is plainly a command from him ; and a command 
from him necessaril}' includes in it, at least, an imphcit pro- 
mise in case of obedience, or threatening, in case of disobe- 
dience. But then the sense of perception of good and ill 
desert,! which is contained in the moral discernment, ren- 
ders the sanction explicit, and makes it appear, as one may 
say, expressed. For, since his method of government is to 
reward and punish actions, his having annexed to some 
actions an inseperable sense of good desert, and to others of 
ill, this surely amounts to declaring upon w^hom his punish- 
ments shall be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For 
he must have given us this discernment and sense of things 
as a presentiment of what is to be hereafter ; that is by w^ay 
of information beforehand, what we are finall}^ to expect in 
his world. There is, then, most evident ground to think, 
that the government of God, upon the whole, will be found 
to correspond to the nature which he has given us ; and 
that, in the upshot and issue of things, happiness and mise- 
ry shall, in fact and event, be made to follow virtue and vice 
respectivel}' ; as he has aheady, in so peculiar a manner, 
associated the ideas of them in our minds. And from hence 
might easily be deduced the obligations of religious worship, 
were it only to be considered as a means of preserving upon 
our minds a sense of this moral government of God, and 
securing our obedience to it ; which yet is an extremely im- 
perfect view of that most important duty. 



♦ Dissertation 2. 
i Dissertation 2. 



17 



tSermon 2d at the RoUa. 



194 



OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, {^PART 1, 



Now, I say, no objection from necessity can lie against 
this general proof of religion : none against the proposition 
reasoned upon, that we have such a moral faculty and dis- 
cernment ; because this is a mere matter of fact, a thing of 
experience, that human kind is thus constituted : none 
against the conclusion ; because it is immediate, and wholly 
from this fact. For the conclusion, that God will finally re- 
ward the righteous and punish the wicked, is not here drawn, 
from its appearing to us fit * that he should^ but from its ap- 
pearing, that he has told us he loill. And this he hath cer- 
tainly told us, in the promise and threatening, which, it hath 
been observed, the notion of a command implies, and the 
sense of good and ill desert, which he has given us, more 
distinctly expresses. And this reasoning from fact is confir- 
med, and, in some degree, even verified, by other facts ; by 
the natural tendencies of virtue and of vice ; | and by this, 
that God, in the natural course of his providence, punishes 
vicious actions, as mischievous to society ; and also ^dcious 
actions, as such, in the strictest sense. J So that the gene- 
ral proof of religion is unanswerably real, even upon the 
wild supposition which we are arguing upon. 

It must likewise be observed farther, that natural religion 
hath, besides this, an external evidence, which the doctrine 
of necessity, if it could be true, would not affect. For, sup- 
pose a person, by the observations and reasoning above, or 
by any other, convinced of the truth of religion ; that there 
is a God, who made the world, who is the moral Governor 
and Judge of mankind, and will, upon the whole, deal with 
every one according to his works ; I say, suppose a person 
convinced of this by reason, but to know nothing at all of 

* However, I am far from intending to deny, that the will of God is de- 
termined by what is fit, by the right and reason of the case ; though one 
chooses to decline matters of such abstract speculation, and to speak with 
caution when one does speak of them. But if it be intelligible to say, 
that it is Jit and reasonable for every one to consult Ids own happiness^ 
then fitness of action^ or the right and reason of the case, is an intelligi- 
ble manner of speaking. And it seems as inconceivable, to suppose God 
to approve one course of action, or one end, preferable to another, which 
yet his acting at all from design implies that he docs, without supposing 
somewhat pnor in that end, to be the ground of the preference ; as to sup- 
pose him to discern an abstract proposition to be true, without supposing 
somewhat prior in it to be the ground of the discernment. It doth not, 
therefore, appear, that moral right is any more relative to perception than 
abstract truth is ; or that it is any more improper to speak of the fitness 
and rightness of actions and ends, as founded in the nature of things, than 
to speak of abstract truth, as thus founded. 

t Page 109. t Page 102, &c. 



CHAP. VI.] 



AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



195 



antiquity, or the present state of mankind, it would be nat- 
ural for such an one to be inquisitive, what was the history 
of this system of doctrine ; at what time, and in what man- 
ner, it came first into the world ; and whether it were believ- 
ed by any considerable part of it. And were he upon in- 
quiry to find, that a particular person, in a late age, first of 
all proposed it as a deduction of reason, and that mankind 
were before wholly ignorant of it ; then though its evidence 
fi'om reason would remain, there would be no additional pro- 
bability of its truth, from the account of its discovery. But 
instead of this being the fact of the case, on the contrary, he 
would find what could not but afford him a very strong con- 
firmation of its truth : First^ That somewhat of this system, 
with more or fewer additions and alterations, hath been pro- 
fessed in all ages and countries of which we have any cer- 
tain informiation relating to this matter. Secondly^ That it 
is certain historical fact, so far as we can trace things up, that 
this whole system of belief, that there is one God, the Crea- 
tor and moral Governor of the world, and that mankind is in 
a state of religion, was received in the first ages. And, third- 
li/j That as there is no hint or intimation in history, that this 
system was first reasoned out ; so there is express historical 
or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, that it was 
taught first by revelation. Now, these things must be al- 
lowed to be of great weight. The first of them, general 
consent, shows this sj^stem to be conformable to the comm.on 
sense of mankind. The second, namely, that religion was 
believed in the first ages of the world, especially as it does 
not appear that there were then anj^ superstitious or false addi- 
tions toit, cannot but beafarther confirmation of its truth. For 
it is a proof of this alternative ; either that it came into the 
world by relation, or that it is natural, obvious, and forces it- 
self upon the mind. The former of these is the conclusion 
of learned men. And whoever will consider, how unapt for 
speculation rude and uncultivated minds are, will, perhaps 
from hence alone, be strongly inclined to believe it the truth. 
And as it 'is shown in the second part * of this Treatise, that 
there is nothing of such peculiar presumption against a reve- 
lation in the begining of the world, as there is supposed to 
be against subsequent ones ; a sceptic could not, I think, 
give any account, which would appear more probable even 
to himself, ol the early pretences to revelation, than by sup- 

♦ Chap. 2. 



! 



196 OP THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART 1. 



posing some real original one, from whence they were copi- 
ed. And the third thing above mentioned, that there is ex- 
press historical or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, 
of the sjstem of religion being taught mankind by revela- 
tion ; this must be admitted as some degree of real proof, 
that it was so taught. For why should not the most ancient 
tradition be admitted as some additional proof of a fact, 
against w^hich there is no presumption ? And this proof is 
mentioned here, because it has its weight to show, that reli- 
gion came into the world by revelation prior to all considera- 
tion of the proper authority of emy book supposed to con- 
tain it ; and even prior to all consideration, whether the reve- 
lation itself be uncoiTuptly handed down and related, or 
mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the historical ac- 
count which we have, of the origin of religion, taking in all 
circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth, no way af- 
fected by the opinion of necessity. And the external evi- 
dence, even of natural rehgion, is by no means inconsidera- 
ble. 

But it is carefully to l^e observed, and ought to be recollec- 
ted after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are only 
general, that as speculative reasons may be neglected, pre- 
judiced, and deceived, so also may our moral understanding 
be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impar- 
tially attended to. This, indeed, proves nothing against the 
reality of our speculative or practical faculties of perception ; 
against their being intended by nature to inform us in the 
theory of things, and instruct us how we are to behave, and 
what we are to expect, in consequence of our behaviour. — 
Yet our liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice 
and perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be upon 
our guard, with respect to v/hat is of such consequence, as 
our determinations concerning virtue and rehgion ; and par- 
ticularly, not to take custom, and fashion, and slight notions 
of honor, or imaginations of present ease, use, and conveni- 
ence to mankind, for the only moml rule.* 

The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of the 
thing, and the liistory of religion, amount, when taken to- 
gether, to a real practical proof of it, not to be confuted ; 
such a proof as, considering the infinite importance of the 
thing, I apprehend, would be admitted fully sufficient, in 
reason, to iiofluence the actions of men, who act upon 



* Dissertation 2. 



CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 



197 



thought and reflection ; if it were admitted that there is no 
proof of the contrary. But it may be said ; ' There are 
many probabihties, which cannot indeed be confuted, i. e, 
shown to be no probabilities, and yet may be overballanced 
by greater probabilities on the other side ; much more by 
demonstration. And there is no occasion to object against 
particular arguments alleged for an opinion, when the opin- 
ion itself may be clearly shown to be false, without meddlmg 
with such arguments at all, but leaving them just as they 
are.* Now, the method of government by rewards and 
punishments, and especially rewarding and punishing good 
and ill desert, as such, respectively, must go upon supposi- 
tion, that we are free, and not necessary agents. And it is 
incredible, that the Author of nature, should govern us up- 
on a supposition as true, which he knows to be false ; and 
therefore absurd to think, he will reward or punish us for our 
actions hereafter ; especially that he will do it under the 
notion, that they are of good or ill desert.' Here, then, the 
matter is brought to a point. And the answer to all this is 
full, and not be evaded ; that the whole constitution and 
course of things, the whole analogy of providence shows, 
beyond possibility of doubt, that the conclusion from this 
reasoning is false, wherever the fallacy hes. The doctrine 
of freedom, indeed, clearly shows where ; in supposing our- 
selves necessary, when in truth we are free agents. But, 
upon the supposition of necessity, the fallacy lies in taking 
for granted that it is incredible necessary agents should be 
rewarded and punished. But that, somehow or other, the 
conclusion now mentioned is false, is most ceitain. For it 
is fact, that God does govern even brute creatures by the 
method of rewards and punishments, in the natural course 
of things. And men are rewarded and punished for their 
actions, punished for actions mischievous to society as being 
so, punished for vicious actions as such, by the natural in- 
strumentality of each other, under the present conduct of 
Providence. Nay, even the affection of gratitude, and the 
passion of resentment, and the rewards and punishments 
following from them, which in general are to be considered 
as natural, i. e. from the Author of nature ; these rewards 
and punishments, being naturally| annexed to actions con- 
sidered as implying good intention and good desert, ill inten- 
tion and ill desert ; these natural rewards and punishments, 



♦ Pages 56, 64. 



^ tSennonSth.atthe 



198 



OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. 



I say, are as much a contradiction to the conclusion above, 
and show its falsehood, as a more exact and complete re- 
warding and punishing of good and ill desert, as such. So 
that, if it be incredible that necessary agents should be thus 
rewarded and punished, then men are not necessary, but 
free; since it is matter of fact that they are thus rewarded 
and punished. But if, on the contrary, which is the suppo- 
sition we have been arguing upon, it be insisted, that men 
are necessary agents, then there is nothing incredible in the 
farther supposition of necessary agents being thus reward- 
ed and punished ; since we ourselves are thus dealt with. 

From the whole, therefore, it must follow, that a necessi- 
ty supposed possible, and reconcilable with the constitution 
of things, does in no sort prove, that the Author of nature 
will not, nor destroy the proof that he will, finally and upon 
the whole, in his eternal government, render his creatures 
happy or miserable, by some means or other, as they behave 
well or ill. Or, to express this conclusion in words con- 
formable to the title of the chapter, the analogy of nature 
shows us, that the opinion of necessity, considered as prac- 
tical, is false. And if necessity, upon the supposition above 
mentioned, doth not destroy the proof of natural religion, it 
evidently makes no alteration in the proof of revealed. 

From these things, likewise, we may learn in what sense 
to understand that general assertion, that the opinion of ne- 
cessity is essentially destructive of all rehgion. Firstj In a 
practical sense ; that by this notion atheistical men pretend 
to satisfy and encourage them.selves in vice, and justify to 
others their disregard to all religion. And, Secondly^ In the 
strictest sense ; that it is a contradiction to the whole consti- 
tution of nature, and to what we may every moment expe- 
rience in ourselves, and so overturns every thing. But by 
no means is this assertion to be understood, as if necessitj^, 
supposing it could possibly be reconciled with the constitution 
of things, and with what we experience, were not also recon- 
cilable with religion ; for upon this supposition it demonstra- 
bly is so. 



CHAP VII. A SC»EME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 199 



CHAPTER VII. 

Of the Govemmeni of God, cmisidered as a Scheme^ or 

Constitution^ imperfectly comprehended. 

Though it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that 
the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the gene- 
ral doctrine of religion, and to the several particular things 
contained in it, considered as so many matters of fact ; and 
likewise, that it shows this credibility not to be destroyed by 
any notions of necessity ; yet still, objections may be insis- 
ted upon against the wisdom, equity, and goodness of the 
divine government, implied in the notion of religion, and 
against the method by which this gowirnment is conducted, 
to which objections analogy can be no direct answer. For 
the credibility, or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, does 
not immediately prove any thing concerning the wdsdom 
or goodness of it ; and analogy can do no more, immediate- 
ly or directly, than show such and such things to be true or 
credible, considered only as matters of fact. But, still, if, 
upon supposition of a moral constitution of nature and a 
moral government over it, analogy suggests and makes it 
credible, that this government must be a scheme, system, or 
constitution of government, as distinguished from a number 
of single unconnected acts of distiibutive justice and good- 
ness ; and likewise, that it must be a scheme, so imperfectly 
comprehended, and of such a sort in other respects, as to 
afford a direct general answer to all objections against the 
justice and goodness of it ; then analogy is, remotely, of 
great service in answering those objections, both by sug- 
gesting the answer, and showing it to be a credible one. 

Now, this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case. 
For, first Upon supposition that God exercises a moral gov- 
ernment over the world, the analogy of his natural govern- 
ment suggests, and makes it credible, that his moral govera- 



200 



THE GOVEJINMENT OF GOD, 



[PAFiT I. 



ment must be a scheme quite beyond our com.prehension ; 
and this affords a general answer to all objections against the 
justice and goodness of it. And, secondly^ A more distinct 
observation of some particular things contained in God's 
scheme of natural government, the like things being suppos- 
ed, by analogy, to be contained in his m.oral government, will 
farther show how little weight is to be laid upon these objec- 
tions. 

1. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral govern- 
ment over the world, the analogy of his natural government 
suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government 
must be a scheme quite beyond our comprehension : and 
this affords a general answer to all objections against the jus- 
tice and goodness of it. It is most obvious, analogy renders 
it highly credible, that upon supposition of a moral govern- 
ment, it must be a scheme, — for the world, and the whole 
natural government of it, appears to be so — to be a scheme, 
system, or constitution, whose parts correspond to each oth- 
er, and to a whole, as really as any work of art, or as any 
particular model of a civil constitution, and government. In 
this great scheme of the natural world, individuals have va- 
rious peculiar relations to other individuals of their own spe- 
cies. And whole species are, we find, variously related to 
other species, upon this earth. Nor do we know how much 
farther these kind of relations may extend. And, as there 
is not any action, or natural event, which we are acquainted 
with, so single and unconnected as not to have a respect to 
some other actions and events, so, possibly, each of them, 
when it has not an immediate, may yet have a remote, nat- 
ural relation to other actions and events, much beyond the 
compass of this present world. There seems indeed, noth- 
ing from whence we can so much as make a conjecture, 
whether all creatures, actions, and events throughout the 
whole of nature, have relations to each other. But, as it is 
obvious that all events have future unknown consequences, 
so, if we trace any, as far as we can go, into what is connec- 
ted with it, we shall find, that if such event were not con- 
nected with somewhat farther, in nature unknown to us, 
somewhat both past and present, such event could not possi- 
bly have been at all. Nor can we give the whole account 
of any one thing whatever ; of all its causes, ends, and ne- 
cessary adjuncts ; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it 
could not have been. By this most astonishing connexion, 
these reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations, every 



CHAP VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 



201 



thing which we see in the course of nature, is actually 
brought about. And things seemingly the most insignificant 
imaginable, are perpetually observed to be necessary condi- 
tions to other things of the greatest importance ; so that any 
one thing whatever may, for aught v/e know to the contra- 
ry, be a necessary condition to any other. The natural 
world, then, and natural government of it, being such an in- 
comprehensible scheme ; so incomprehensible, that a man 
must really, in the literal sense, know nothing at all, who is 
not sensible of his ignorance in it : this immediately suggests, 
and strongly shows the credibility, that the moral world and 
government of it may be so too. Indeed, the natural and 
moral constitution and government of the world are so con- 
nected, as to make up together but one scheme ; and it is 
highly probable, that the first is formed and carried on mere- 
ly 'in subserviency to the latter, as the vegetable world is for 
the animal, and organized bodies for minds. But the thing 
intended here is, without inquiring how far the administra- 
tion of the natural world is subordinate to that of the moral, 
only to observe the credibilitj^, that one should be analagous 
or similar to the other : that, therefore, every act of divine 
justice and goodness may be supposed to look much beyond 
itself and its immediate object ; maj^ have some reference to 
other parts of God's moral administration, and to a general 
moral plan ; and that every circumstance of this his moral 
government may be adjusted beforehand with a view to the 
whole of it. Thus, for example : the determined length of 
time, and the degrees and v/ays in which virtue is to remain 
in a state of warfare and discipline, and in which wickedness 
is permitted to have its progress : the times appointed for the 
execution of justice ; the appointed instruments of it ; the 
kinds of rewards and punishments, and the manners of their 
distribution ; all particular instances of di\^ne justice and 
goodness, and every circum.stance of them, may have such 
respects to each other, as to make up altogether a vs-hole, 
connected and related in all its parts ; a scheme, or system, 
which is as properly one as the natural world is, and of the 
like kind. And supposing this to be the case, it is most evi- 
dent that we are not competent judges of this scheme, from 
the small parts of it wliich come within our view in the pre- 
sent life ; and therefore no objections against any of these 
parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. 

This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn from 
ilf ai'e universally acknowledged upon other occasions ; and, 



202 



THE GOVERN3IENT OF GOD, 



[part L 



though scarce denied, j'et are universally forgot, when 
persons come to argue against religion. And it is 
not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men, al- 
ways to bear in mind the degree of our ignorance, and 
make due allowances for it. Upon these accounts, it 
may not be useless to go on a little farther, in order to show 
more distinctly, how just an answer ^^ur ignorance is, to ob- 
jections against the scheme of Providence. Suppose, then, 
a person boldly to assert, that the things complained of, the 
origin and continuance of e\il, might easily have been pre- 
vented by repeated interpositions ; * intei*positions so guard- 
ed and chcumstanced, as would prelude all mischief arising 
fi'om them : or, if this were impracticable, that a scheme of 
government is itself an impeifection : since more good might 
have been produced without any scheme, sj'stem, or consti- 
tution at all, by continued single unrelated acts of distribu- 
tive justice and goodness, because these would have occa- 
sioned no iiTegularities : and farther than this, it is presum- 
ed, the objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is ob- 
vious ; that, were these assertions true, still the observ'ations 
above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine 
government, and the consequence drawn from it, vv'ould hold 
in great measure, enough to vindicate religion against all 
objections from the disorders of the present state. Were 
these assertions true, yet the government of the world might 
be just and good notwithstanding ; for, at the most, they 
would infer nothing more than that it might have been bet- 
ter. But, indeed, they are mere arbitrarj^ assertions : no 
man being sufficienth^ acquainted vdth the possibilities of 
things, to bring any proof of them to the lowest degree of 
probabilitj' . For, however possible what is asseiled may 
seem, yet many instances may be alledged, in things much 
less out of our reach, of suppositions absolutely impossible and 
reducible to the most palpable self-contradictions, which not 
every one by any means could perceive to be such, nor per- 
haps anj^ one at first sight suspect. From these things it is 
easy to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the com- 
mon, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections against 
the justice and goodness of Providence. If a man, contem- 
plating any one providential dispensation, which had no re- 
lation to any others, should object, that he discerned in it a 
disregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness, nothing 



* Pages 174, 175, 17a 



CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 



203 



would be less an answer to such objection, than our igno- 
rance in other parts of Providence, or in the possibilities of 
things, no way related to what he was contemplating. But 
when we know not but the parts objected against may be 
relative to other parts unknown to us, and when we are un- 
acquainted with what is, in the nature of the thing, practi- 
cable in the case before us, then our ignorance is a satisfac- 
tory answer ; because some unknown relation, or some un- 
known impossibility, may render what is objected against 
just and good ; nay, good in the highest practical degree. 

II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objec- 
tions will farther appear, by a more distinct observ^ation of 
some particular things contained in the natural government 
of God, the like to which may be supposed from analogy, to 
be contained in his mural government. 

First, As, in the scheme of the natural world, no ends ap- 
pear to be accomplished without means ; so we find that 
means very undesirable often conduce to bring about ends 
in such a measure desirable, as greatly to over-balance the 
disagreeableness of the means. And in cases where such 
means are conducive to such ends, it is not reason, but ex- 
perience, which shows us that they are thus conducive. 
Experience also shows many means to be conducive and 
necessary to accomplish ends, which means, before experi- 
ence, we should have thought would have had even a con- 
trary tendency. Now, from these observations relating to 
the natural scheme of the world, the moral being supposed 
analogous to it, arises a great credibility, that the putting 
our misery in each other's power to the degree it is, and 
making men liable to vice to the degree we are ; and, in 
general, that those things which are objected against the 
moral scheme of Providence may be, upon the whole, friend- 
ly and assistant to virtue, and productive of an over balance 
of happiness ; i. e. the things objected against maybe means 
by which an over-balance of good will, in the end, be found 
produced. And, from the same observations, it appears to be 
no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed we do 
not, see those means to have any such tendency, or that 
they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus, those things 
whicn we call irregularities, may not be so at all ; because 
they may be means of accomplishing wise and good ends 
more considerable. And it may be added, as above, that 
they may also be the only means by which these wise and 
good ends are capable of being accomplished. 



204 



THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART. L 



After these observations it may be proper to add, in ordei 
to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from any of 
them, that though the constitution of our nature, from whence 
we are capable of vice and misery, may, as it undoubtedly 
does, contribute to the perfection and happiness of the world ; 
and though the actual permission of evil may be beneficial 
to it, {i. e. it would have been more mischievous, not that a 
wicked person had himself abstained from his own wicked- 
ness, but that any one had forcibly prevented it, than that it 
was permitted ;) yet, notwithstanding, it might have been 
much better for the world if this very evil had never been 
done. Nay, it is most clearly conceivable, that the very 
commission of wickedness may be beneficial to the world, 
and yet that it would be infinitely more beneficial for men to 
refrain firom it. For thus, in the wise and good constitution 
of the natural world, there are disorders which bring their 
own cures ; diseases which are themselves remedies. Many 
a man would have died, had it not been for the gout or fever ; 
yet it would be thought madness to assert, that sickness is a 
better or more perfect state than health ; though the like, 
with regard to the moral world, has been asserted. But, 

Secondly J The natural government of the world is carried 
cm by general laws. For this there may be wise and good 
reasons ; the wisest and best, for aught we know to the con- 
trary. And that there are such reasons, is suggested to our 
thoughts by the analogy of nature ; by our being made to 
experience good ends to be accomplished, as indeed all the 
good which we enjoy is accomplished, by this means, that 
the laws, by which the world is governed, are general. For 
we have scarce any kind of enjoyments, but what we are, 
in some way or other, instrumental in procuring ourselves, 
by acting in a manner which we foresee likely to procure 
them : now this foresight could not be at all, were not the 
government of the world carried on hy general laws. And 
though, for aught we know to the contrary, every single 
tease may be, at length, found to have been provided for even 
by these, yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy them as 
they arise, by the wisest and best general laws, may be im- 
possible in the nature of things, as we see it is absolutely 
impossible in civil government. But then we are ready to 
think, that the constitution of nature remaining as it is, and 
the course of things being permitted to go on, in other re- 
spects, as it does, there might be interpositions to prevent 
irregularities, though they could not have been "prevented or 



CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 



205 



remedied by any general laws. And there would indeed be 
reason to wish — which, by the way, is very different from a 
right to claim — that all irregularities were prevented or 
remedied by' present interpositions, if these interpositions 
would have no other effect than this. But it is plain they 
would have some visible and immediate bad effects ; for in- 
stance, they would encourage idleness and negligence, aad 
they would render doubtful the natural rule of life, which is 
ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the world 
is carried on by general laws. And farther, it is certain they 
would have distant effects, and very great ones too, by 
means of the wonderful connexions before mentioned. So 
that we cannot so much as guess, what would be the whole 
result of the interpositions desired. It may be said, any bad 
result might be prevented by farther interpositions, whenever 
there was occasion for them ; but this again is talking quite 
at random, and in the dark.| Upon the whole, then, we see 
^vise reasons why the course of the world should be carried 
on by general laws, and good ends accomplished by this 
means, and, for aught we knov/, there may be the wisest 
reasons for it, and the best ends accomplished by it. We 
have no ground to beheve, that all irregularities could be 
remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded by gene- 
ral laws. We find that interpositions would produce evil, 
and prevent good ; and, for aught Vv^e know, they would 
produce greater evil than they would prevent, and prevent 
greater good than they would produce. And if this be the 
case, then, the not interposing is so far from being a ground 
of complaint, that it is an instance of goodness. This is in- 
telligible and sufficient ; and going farther seems beyond the 
utmost reach of our faculties. 

But it may be said, that ' after all, these supposed im- 
possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted 
with ; and we must judge of religion, as of other things, by 
what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing : ar, 
however, that the answers here given to what is objected 
against rehgion, may equally be made use of to invalidate 
the proofs of it, since then stress hes so very much upon our 
ignorance.' But, ^ 

Firstj Though total ignorance in any matter does indeed 
equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof concerning it, 
and objections against it, yet partial ignorance does not. 



♦ Page 169. t Pages 171, 172, 173. 

IS . 



206 



THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART I. 



For we may in any degree be convinced, that a person is of 
such a character, and consequently will pursue such ends, 
though we are greatly ignorant what is the proper way of 
acting, in order the most effectually to obtain those ends ; 
and in this case, objections against his manner of acting, as 
seemingly not conducive to obtain them, might be answer- 
ed by our ignorance, though the proof that such ends were 
intended, might not at all be invalidated by it. Thus, the 
proof of religion is a proof of the moral character of God, 
and, consequently, that his government is moral, and that 
every one, upon the whole, shall receive according to his 
deserts ; a proof that this is the designed end of his gover- 
ment. But we are not competent judges what is the proper 
w^ay of acting, in order the most effectually to accomplish 
this end * Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objec- 
tions against the conduct of Providence, in permitting irregu- 
larities, as seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since 
it is so obvious that our ignorance may be a satisfactory an- 
swer to objections against a thing, and yet not affect the 
proof of it ; till it can be shown, it is frivolous to assert, that 
our ignorance invalidates the proof of religion, as it does the 
objections against it. 

Seco'ndhj^ Suppose unknown impossibilities, and unknown 
relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of re- 
ligion, as well as to answer objections against it, and that, 
in consequence of this, the proof of it were doubtful ; yei 
still, let the assertion be despised, or let it be ridiculed, it is 
undeniably true, that moral obligations would remain cer- 
tain, though it were not certain what would, upon the 
whole, be the consequences of observing or violating them. 
For these obligations arise immediately and necessarily from 
the judgment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we 
cannot violate without being self-condemned. And they 
would be certain, too, from considerations of interest. For, 
though it were doubtful what will be the future consequen- 
ces of virtue and vice, yei it is however credible, that they 
may have those consequences which religion teaches us 
they will ; and this credibility is a certain| obligation in 
point of prudence, to abstain from all wickedness, and to live 
in the conscientious practice of all that is good. But, 

Thirdly^ The answers above given to the objections against 
religion, cannot equally be made use of to invalidate the 

* Pages 63, 64. t Page 59, and Part ii. chap. 6. 



CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 



207 



proof of it. For, upon supposition that God exercises a 
moral government over the worldj analogy does most strong- 
ly lead us to conclude, that this moral government must be 
a scheme, or constitution, beyond our comprehension. And 
a thousand particular analogies show us, that parts of such 
a scheme, from their relation to other parts, may conduce to 
accomplish ends, which we should have thought they had 
no tendency at all to accomplish ; na}', ends, which, before 
experience, we should have thought such parts were contra- 
dictory to, and had a tendency to prevent. And, therefore, 
all these analogies show, that the way of arguing made use 
of in objecting against rehgion, is delusive ; because they 
show it is not at all incredible, that, could we comp'ehend 
the whole, we should find the permission of the disorders 
objected against, to be consistent with justice and goodness, 
and even to be instances of them. Now this is not applica- 
ble to the proof of religion, as it is to the objections against 
it and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does 
these objections. 

Lastly^ From the observations now m.ade, it is easy to 
see, that the answers above given to the objections against 
Providence, though, in a general waj' of speaking, they may 
be said to be taken from our ignorance, yet are by no means 
taken merely from that, but from somewhat which analogy 
shows us concerning it. For analogy shows us positively, 
that our ignorance in the possibihties of things, and the vari- 
ous relations in nature, renders us incompetent judges, and 
leads us to false conclusions, in cases similar to this, in which 
we pretend to judge and to object. So that the things above 
insisted upon, are not mere suppositions of unknown impos- 
sibilities and relations ; but they are suggested to our 
thoughts, and even forced upon the observations of serious 
men, and rendered credible, too, by the analogy of nature. 
And, therefore, to take these things into the account, is to 
judge by experience, and what we do know ; and it is not 
judging so, to take no notice of them. 



* Sermon at the Rolls, p. 312, 2d Edition. 



CONCLUSION 



The observationa of the last chapter lead us to considef 
this little scene of human life, in which we are so busily en- 
gaged, as having reference, of some sort or other, to a much 
larger plan of things. Whether we are any way related to 
the more distant parts of the boundless universe into which 
we are brought, is altogether uncertain. But it is evident, 
that the course of things which comes within our view, is 
connected with somewhat past, present, and future beyond 
it.* So that we are placed, as one may speak, in the mid- 
dle of a scheme, not a fixed, but a progressive one, every way 
incomprehensible ; incomprehensible, in a manner, equally 
with respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall 
be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it some- 
what as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought and 
conception,! as any thing in that of rehgion. For, will an}'- 
man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to conceive how 
the world came to be, and continued as it is, without, than 
with, an intelligent Author and Governor of it ? admitting 
an intelligent Governor of it, that there is some other rule of 
government more natural, and of easier conception, than that 
which we call moral '? Indeed, without an intelHgent Au- 
thor and Governor of nature, no account at all can be given, 
how this universe, or the part of it particularly in which we 
are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to be carried 
on, as it is ; nor any of its general end and design, without 
a moral Governor of it. Thaft there is an intelligent Author 
of nature and natural Governor of the world, is a principle 
gone upon in the foregoing treatise, as proved, and generally 
known and confessed to be proved. And the very notion of 
and intelhgent Author of nature, proved by particular final 



♦ Page 169, &c. T See Part ii. chap, 2, 



210 



CONCLUSION. 



[part. U 



causes, implies a will and a character.'^ Now, as our whole 
nature, the nature which he has given us, leads us to con- 
clude his will and character to be moral, just, and good ; so 
we can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can be other- 
wise. However, in consequence of this his will and charac- 
ter, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it is, and car- 
ries on the course of it as he does, rather than in any other 
iTianner ; and has assio^ned to us, and to all hving creatures, 
a part and a lot in it. Irrational creatures act this their part, 
and enjoy and undergo the pleasures and the pains allotted 
them, without any reflection. But one would think it im- 
possible, that creatures endued with reason could avoid re- 
flecting sometimes upon all this ; reflecting, if not from 
whence we came, yet, at least, whither we tire going, and 
wdiat the mysterious scheme in the midst of which we find 
ourselves, will at length come out and produce ; a scheme 
in which it is certain we are highly interested, and in which 
we may be interested even beyond conception. For many 
things prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall 
cease to be at death. Particular analogies do most sensibly 
show us, that there is nothing to be thought strange in our 
being to exist in another state of life. And that we are now 
living beings, affords a strong probability that we shall con- 
tinue so ; unless there be some positive ground, and there is 
none from reason or analogy, to think death will destroy us. 
Were a persuasion of this kind ever so well grounded, there 
would, surely, be little reason to take pleasure in it. But, 
indeed, it can have no other ground than some such imagina- 
tion, as that of our gross bodies being ourselves ; which is 
contrary to experience. Experience, too, most clearly shows 
us the folly of concluding, from the body and the living agent 
affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the 
former is the destruction of the latter. And there are remark- 
able instances of their not affecting each other, wliich lead 
us to a contrary conclusion. The supposition, then, which 
in all reason we are to go upon, is, that our liV'ing nature 
will continue after death. And it is infinitely unreasonable 
to form an institution of Hfe, or to act upon any other suppo- 
sition. Now, all expectation of immortality, whether more 
or less certain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes 
and our fears ; since we see the constitution of nature is such 
as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of happi^ 



♦ Page 158. 



PART. I.J 



CONCLUSION. 



211 



ness, and experience ourselves to partake of both in some 
degree ; and since we cannot but know what higher degrees 
of both we are capable of And there is no presumption 
against believing farther, that our future interest depends 
upon our present behaviour ; for we see our present interest 
doth ; and that the happiness and misery, which are natural- 
ly annexed to our actions, very frequently do not follow till 
long after the actions are done to which they are respective- 
ly annexed. So that, were speculation to leave us uncer- 
tain, whether it were likely that the Author of nature, in 
giving happiness and misery to his creatures, hath regard to 
their actions or not ; yet, since we find by experience that 
he hath such regard, the whole sense of things which he 
has given us, plainly leads us, at once, and without any 
elaborate inquiries, to think that it may, indeed must, be to 
good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness, and to 
bad actions misery ; or that he will, upon the whole, rewaM 
those w^ho do well, and punish those who do evil. To con- 
firm this from the constitution of the world, it has been ob- 
served, that some sort of moral government is necessarily 
implied in that natural government of God which we expe- 
rience ourselves under ; that good and bad actions, at pre- 
sent, are naturally rewarded and punished, not only as bene- 
ficial and mischievous to society, but also as virtuous and 
vicious ; and that there is, in the very nature of the thing, a 
tendency to their being rewarded and punished in a much 
higher degree than they are at present. And though this 
higher degree of distributive justice, which nature thus 
points out and leads towards, is prevented for a time fi'om ta- 
king place, it is by obstacles which the state of this world 
unhappily throws in its way, and which, therefore, are in 
their nature temporary. Now, as these things, in the natu- 
ral conduct of Providence, are observable on the side of vir- 
tue, so there is nothing to be set against them on the side of 
vice. A moral scheme of government, then, is visibly es- 
tablished, and in some degree carried into execution ; and 
this, together with the essential tendencies of virtue and vice 
duly considered, naturally raise in u.s an apprehension that 
it will be carried on farther towards perfection in a future 
state, and that every one shall there receive according to his 
deserts. And if this be so, then our future and general in- 
terest, under the moral government of God, is appointed to 
depend upon our behaviour, notwithstanding the difficulty 
which this may occasion of securing it, and the danger of lo* 



212 



CONCLUSION. 



[part 1. 



sing it ; just in the same manner as our temporal interest, 
under his natural government, is appointed to depend upon 
our behaviour, notwithstanding the like difficulty and danger. 
For, from our original constitution, and that of the world 
which we inhabit, we are naturally trusted with ourselves, 
"with our own conduct and our own interest. And from the 
same constitution of nature, especially joined with that 
course of things which is owing to men, we have, tempta- 
tions to be unfaithful in this trust, to forfeit this interest, to 
neglect it, and run ourselves into misery and ruin. From 
these temptations arise the difficulties of behaving so as to 
secure our temporal interest, and the hazard of behaving so 
as to miscarry in it. There is, therefore, nothing incredible 
in supposing, there may be the like difficulty and hazard 
with regard to that chief and final good which religion lays 
before us. Indeed, the whole account, how it came to pass 
that we were placed in such a condition as this, must be be- 
yond our comprehension. But it is in part accounted for by 
what religion teaches us, that the character of virtue and 
piety must be a necessary qualification for a future state of 
security and happiness, under the moral government of God ; 
in Hke manner, as some certain quahfications or other are 
necessary for every particular condition of life, under his 
natural government ; and that the present state was inten- 
ded to be a school of discipline, for improving in ourselves 
that character. Now, this intention of nature is rendered 
highly credible by observing, that we are plainly made for 
improvement of all kmds ; that it is a general appointment 
of Providence, that we cultivate practical principles, and 
form within ourselves habits of action, in order to become fit 
for what we were wholly unfit for before ; that, in particu- 
lar, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to be a state 
of discipline for mature age ; and that the present world is 
peculiarly fitted for a state of moral discipline. And, where- 
as objections are urged against the whole notion of moral 
government and a probation state, from the opinion of neces- 
sity, it has been shown, that God has given us the evidence, 
as it were, of experience, that all objections against religion 
on this head are vain and delusive. He has also, in his na- 
!*ural government, suggested an answer to all our short sight- 
ed objections against the equity and goodness of his moral 
government ; and, in general, he has exemplified to us the 
latter by the former. 

These things, which, it is to be remembered, are matters 

( 



PART I.] 



CONCLUSION. 



213 



of fact, ought, in all common sense, to awaken mankind, to 
induce them to consider, in earnest, their condition, and what 
they have to do. It is absurd, — absurd to the degree of be- 
ing ridiclous, if the subject where not of so serious a kind, for 
men to think themselves secure in a vicious hfe, or even in 
that immoral thoughtlessness which far the greatest part of 
them are fallen into. And the credibility of religion, arising 
from experience and facts here considered, is fully sufficient, 
in reason, to engage them to live in the general practice of 
all virtue and piety ; under the serious apprehension, though 
it should be mixed with some doubt,"*- of a righteous adminis- 
tration established in nature, and a future judgment in conse- 
quence of it ; especially when we consider, how very ques- 
tionable it is whether any thing at all can be gained by vice ]\ 
how unquestionably little, as well as precarious, the plea- 
sures and profits of it are at the best, and how soon they 
must be parted with at the longest. For, in the deliberations 
of reason, concerning what we are to pursue and what to 
avoid, as temptations to any thing from mere passion are 
supposed out of the case ; so inducements to vice from cool 
expectations of pleasure and interest, so small, and uncer- 
tain, and short, are really so insignificant, as, in the view of 
reason, to be almost nothing in themselves, and, in compari- 
son with the importance of religion, they quite disappear and 
are lost. Mere passion, indeed, may be alleged, though not 
as a reason, yet as an excuse for a vicious course of life. 
And how sorry an excuse it is will be manifest by observing, 
that we are placed in a condition in which we are unavoida- 
bly inured to govern our passions, by being necessitated to 
govern them ; and to lay ourselves under the same kind of 
restraints, and as great ones too, from temporal regards, as 
virtue and piety, in the ordinary course of things, require. 
The plea of ungovernable passion, then, on the side of vice, 
is the poorest of all things ; for it is no reason ; and but a 
poor excuse. But the proper motives to religion, are the 
proper proofs of it, from our moral nature, from the presages 
of conscience, and our natural apprehension of God, under 
the character of a righteous Governor and Judge ; a nature, 
and conscience, and apprehension given us by him ; and 
from the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by life and 
immortality brought to light by the gospel ; and the wrath cf 
God revealed from heaven^ against all ungodliness and mrighte" 
ousness of men. 

♦ Part ii. chap. 6. t Page 99. 



THE 
ANALOGY 

OP 

RELIGION 

TO THE 

CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. 



PART II. 
OF REVEALED RELIGION. 



CHAP. I. 

Of the Importance of Christianity, 

Some persons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the light 
of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its very notion, 
incredible, and what must be fictitious. And, indeed, it is 
certain no revelation would have been given, had the light 
of nature been sufficient in such a sense as to render one not 
wanting and useless. But no man, in seriousness and sim- 
plicity of mind, can possibly think it so, who considers the 
state of rehgion in the heathen world before revelation, and 
its present state in those places which have borrowed no 
light from it ; particularly, the doubtfulness of some of the 
greatest men concerning things of the utmost importance, as 
well as the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in 
general. It is impossible to say who would have been able 
to have reasoned out that whole system, which we call na- 
tural religion, in its genuine sirDplicity, clear of superstition ; 
but there is certainly no ground to affirm that the generality 
could : if they could, there is no sort of probability that they 
would. Admitting there were, they would highly want a 



216 



OF THE rarORTANCE 



[part II. 



standing admonition, to remind them of it, and inculcate it 
upon them. And, farther still, were thej as much disposed 
to attend to religion as the better sort of men arc, yet, even 
upon this supposition, there would be various occasions for 
supernatural instruction and asistance, and the greatest ad- 
vantages might be afforded by them. So that to say, reve- 
lation is a thing superfluous, what there was no need of, and 
what can be of no service, is I think, to talk quite wildly and 
at random. Nor would it be more extravagant to affirm, 
that mankind is so entirely at ease in the present state, and 
life so completely happj^, that it is a contradiction to suppose 
our condition capable of being in any respect better. 

There are other persons, not to be ranked with these, who 
seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as it 
were, overlooking revelation as of small importance, provi- 
ded natural religion to be kept to. With Httle regard, either 
to the evidence of the former, or to the objections against it, 
and even upon supposition of its truth, ' the only design of it,' 
say they, ^ must be to establish a belief of the moral system 
of nature, and to enforce the practice of natural piety and 
virtue. The belief and practice of these things were, perhaps, 
much promoted by the first publication of Christianity ; but 
whether they are beheved and practised, upon the evidence 
and motives of nature or of revelation, is no great matter.'* 
This way of considering revelation, though it is not the same 
with the former, yet borders nearly upon it and very much, at 
length, runs up into it, and requires to be particularly con- 
sidered, with regard to the persons who seem to be getting 
into this way. The consideration of it will, Hkewise, farther 
show the extravagance of the former opinion, and the truth 
of the observations in answer to it, just mentioned. And an 
inquiry into the Importance of Christianity, cannot be an 
improper introduction to a treatise concerning the credibility 
of it. 

Now, if God has given a revelation to mankind, and com- 
manded those things which are commanded in Christianity, 
it is e^ddent, at first sight, that it cannot in any wise be an 
indifferent matter, whether we obey or disobey those com- 

* Invenis multos propterea nolle fieri Christianos, quia quasi suffi- 

ciunt sibi de bona vita sua , Bene vivere opus est, ait. (iuid mihi prjB- 
cepturus est Chrl«tus7 Ut bene vivam 1 Jam bene vivo. Cluid mihi 
necessarius est Cnristus 1 Nullum homicidium, nullum fiirtum, nuHam 
rapinam facio, res alienas non concupisco, nullo adulterio contaminor. Nam 
inveniatur in vita mea aliquid quod reprehendatur, et <iui reprehenderit 6.- 
ciat ChristiaRum. — Aug, in Psalm xxxL 



PART II.] 



OF CHIUSTIANITY. 



217 



mands, unless we are certainlj^ assured, that we know all 
the reasons for them, a,nd that all those reasons are now 
ceased, with regard to mankind in general, or to ourselves 
in particular. And it is absolutely impossible we can be 
assured of this ; for our ignorance of these reasons proves 
nothing in the case, since the whole analogy of nature shows, 
what is mdeed in itself evident, that there may bo infinite 
reasons for things, with which we are not acquainted. 

But the importance of Christianity will more distinctly 
appear, by considering it more distinctly : Firsij As a re- 
nublication, and external institution, of natural or essential 
religion, adapted to the present circumstances of mankind, 
and mtended to promote natural piety and virtue ; and se- 
condly^ As containing an account of a dispensation of things, 
not discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several 
distinct precepts are enjoined us. For, though natural reli- 
gion is the foundation and principal part of Christianity, it is 
not in any sense the whole of it. 

1. Christianity is a republication of natural religion. It 
mstructs mankind in, the moral system of the world ; that it 
is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and under his go- 
vernment ; that virtue is his law ; and that he will finally 
judge mankind in righteousness, and render to all according 
to their works, in a future state. And, which is very miate- 
rial, it teaches natural religion in its genuine simplicity, free 
from those superstitions with which it was totally corrupted, 
and under which it was in a manner lost. 

Revelation is, farther, an authoritative publication of na- 
tural religion, and so affords the evidence of testimony for 
the truth of it. Indeed, the miracles and prophecies record- 
ed in Scripture, were intended to prove a particular dispensa- 
tion of Providence— the redemption of the world by the Mes- 
siah : but this does not hinder but that they may also prove 
God's general providence over the w^orld, as our Moral Go- 
vernor and Judge. And they evidently do prove it ; be« 
cause this character of the Author of nature is necessarily 
connected with and implied in that particular revealed dis- 
pensation of things ; it is likewise continually taught ex- 
pressl}^, and insisted upon, by those persons who wrought 
the miracles and delivered the prophecies. So that, indeed, 
natural religion seems as much proved by the Scripture reve- 
lation, as it would have been, had the design of revelation 
been nothing else than to prove it. 

But it may possibly be disputed, how far miracles can 
19 



218 OF THE IIVIPORTANCE [PART II. 

prove natural religion ; and notable objections may be urged 
against this proof of it, considered as a matter of specula- 
tion ; but, considered as a practical thing, there can be none. 
For, suppose a person to teach natural religion to a nation 
who had lived in total ignorance or forgetfulness of it, and 
to declare he was commissioned bj God so to do ; suppose 
him, in proof of his comimission, to foretell things future, 
which no human foresight could have guessed at ; to divide 
*he sea with a word ; feed great multitudes with l)read from 
heaven ; cure all manner of diseases ; and raise the dead, 
even himself^^to hfe ; — would not this give additional credi- 
bility to his teaching, a credibility beyond what that of a 
common man would have, and be an authoritative publica- 
tion of the law of nature, i e. a new proof of it ? It would 
be a practical one, of the strongest kind, perhaps, which hu- 
man creatures are capable of having given them. The law 
of Moses, then, and the gospel of Christ, are authoritative 
publications of the religion of nature : they alford a proof of 
God's general providence, as moral Governor of the world, 
as well as of his particular dispensations of Providence to- 
wards sinful creatures, revealed in the law of the gospel. 
As they are the only evidence of the latter, so they are an 
ndditiona] evidence of the former. 

To show this further, let us suppose a man of the great- 
est ana most improved capacity, who had never heard of 
revelation, convinced upon the whole, notwithstanding the 
disorders of the world, that it v/as under the direction and 
moral government of an iniinitely perfect Being, but ready 
to question, v/hether he were not got beyond the reach of his 
faculties ; suppose him brought, by this suspicion, into greai 
danger of being carried away by the universal bad example 
of almost ever}' one around him, who appeared to have no 
sense, no practical sense at least, of these things : and this 
perhaps, v/ould be as advantageous a situation, with regard 
to religion, as nature alone ever placed any man in. What 
a confirmation now must it be to such a person, ail at once 
to find, that this moral system of things was revealed to 
raanl'ind, in the name of that infinite Being whom he had, 
fiorn principles of reason, believed in : and that the pubhsh- 
ers of the revelation proved their commission from him., by 
making it appear that he had intrusted them with a power 
of suspending and changing the general laws of nature ! 

Nor n.ust it, by any means, be omitted ; for it is a thing 
of the Lumost importance, that life and immortality are ern- 



CHAP. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. '^0) 

incntlj brought to light bj the gospel. The great doctrines 
of a future state, the danger of a course of wickedness, and 
the efficacj^ of repentanc-e, are not only confirmed in the gos- 
pel, but are taught, especially the last is, ^vith a degree of 
light : to which that of nature is but darkness. 

Farther : As christianit}* served these ends and purposes, 
when it was first published, by the miraculous pubUcation it- 
self, so it was intended to serve the same purposes, in future 
ages, by means of the settlement of a visible church ; of a so- 
ciety, distinguished from common ones, and from the rest of 
the world, by peculiar religious institutions ; by an instituted 
method of instruction, and an instituced form of external re- 
ligion. Miraculous powers were given to the first preachers 
of Christianity, in order to their mtroducing it into the world : 
a visible church w^as estabhshed, in order to continue it, and 
carry it on successivel}' throughout all ages. Had Moses 
and the Prophets, Christ and his Apostles, onlj' taught, and 
by miracles proved, religion to their contemporaries the benefits 
of their instructions Vv^ould have reached but to a small part 
of mankind. Christianity must have been, in a great de- 
gree, sunk and forgot in a verj^ few ages. To prevent this 
appears to have been one reason \Yhy a visible church was 
instituted ; to be, like a city upon a hill, a standing memo- 
rial to the w^orld of the duty which vve owe our Maker : to 
call men continualh', both by example and instruction, to at- 
tend to it, and, by the form of religion ever before their ej'es, 
remind them of the reality ; to be the repository of the ora- 
cles of God : to hold up the light of revelation in aid to that 
of nature, and propagate it throughout all generations to 
the end of the w^orld — the light of revelation, considered 
here in no other view, than as designed to enforce natural re- 
hgion. And, in proportion as Christianity is professed and 
taught in the world, religion, natural or essential religion, is 
thus distinctly and advantageouslj^ laid before mankind. an:l 
brought again and again to their thoughts, as a matter of 
infinite importance. A visible church has also a farther ten- 
dency to promote natural religion, as being an instituted 
method of education, originally mtended to be of more pecul- 
iar advantage to those Vv^ho woidd conform to it. For one 
end of the institution was, that, hy admonition and reproof, 
as well as instruction ; by a genera.1 regular discipline, and 
public exercises of religion, t/ie body of Christy as the Scrip- 
ture speaks, should be edified ; i. e. trained up in piety and 
virtue, foi a higher and a better state. This settlement then, 



220 



OF THE iMFORTANCE 



[part 11. 



appearing thus beneficial ; tending", in the nature of the 
thing, to answer, and in some degree actuallj answering, 
those ends ; it is to be remembered, that the very notion of 
it implies positive institutions ; for the visibility of the church 
consists in them. Take away every thing of this kind, and 
you lose the very notion itself. So that, if the things now 
mentioned are advantages, the reason and importance of 
positive institutions in general is most obvious ; since ^^'ith- 
out thena, these advantages could not be secured to the world 
And it is mere idle wantonness, to insist upon knowing the 
reasons why such particular ones were fixed upon rather 
than others. 

The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance, 
which Christianity affords to natural religion, is what some 
persons are very slow in apprehending ; and yet it is a thing 
distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious one. For will 
any, in good earnest, really say, that the bulk of mankind 
in the heathen world were in as advantageous a situation, 
with regard to natural religion, as they are now amongst 
us ? that it was laid before them, and enforced upon them, 
in a manner as distinct, and as much tending to influence 
their practice ? 

The objections against all this, from the perversion oi 
Christianity, and from the supposition of its having had but 
little good influence, however innocently they may be pro- 
posed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive, upon any 
principles but such as lead to dovvnright atheism ; because 
the manifestation of the law of nature by reason, which, up- 
on ail principles of theism, must have been from God, has been 
perverted and rendered inefl:ectual in the same manner. It 
may indeed, I think, truly be said that the good effects of 
Christianit}' have not been small ; nor its supposed ill effects 
o.t all of it, properly speaking. Perhaps, too, the things 
themselves done have been aggravated ; and if not, Chris- 
tianitj^ hath been often only a pretence ; and the same evils, 
in the main, would have been done upon some other pretence. 
However, great and shocking as the corruptions and abuses 
of it have really been, they cannot be insisted upon as argu- 
ments against it, upon principles of theism. For one can- 
not proceed one step in reasoning upon natural religion, any 
more than upon Christianity, without laying it down as a 
first principle, that the dispensations of Providence are not 
to be judged of by their perversions, but by their genuine 
tendencies ; not by what they do actually seein to effect, but 



CHAP. I.] 



OF CHRISTIANITY. 



•221 



by what they would effect if mankind did their part, that 
part which is justly put and left upon them. It is altogeth- 
er as much the language of one, as of the other : He that 
is unjust^ let him he unjust still ; and he that is holy^ let him he 
holy still.^ The light of reason does not, any more than 
that of revelation, force men to submit to its authority : both 
admonish them of what they ought to do and avoid, togeth- 
er with the consequences of each ; and, after this, leave 
them at full liberty to act just as they please, till the appoin- 
ted time of judgment. Every moment's experience shows, 
that this is God's general rule of government. 

To return, then : Christianity being a promulgation of the 
law of nature ; being, moreover, an authoritative promulga- 
tion of it, with new hght and other circumstances of pecu- 
liar advantage, adapted to the wants of mankind ; these 
things fully show its imiportance. And it is to be observed 
farther that as the nature of the case requires, so all Chris- 
tians are commanded to contribute, by their profession of 
Christianity, to preserve it in the world, and render it such 
a promulgation and enforcement of religion. For it is the 
very scheme of the gospel, that each Christian should, in 
his degree, contribute towards continuing and carrying it on ; 
all by uniting in the public profession, and external practice 
of Christianity ; some by instructing, by having the over- 
sight, and taking care of this religious community, the 
Church of God. Now this farther shows the importance 
of Christianity, and, which is what I chiefly intend, its im- 
portance in a practical sense, or the high obligations we are 
under, to take it into our most serious consideration : and the 
danger there must necessarily be, not only in treating it 
despitefully, which I am not now speaking of, but in disre- 
garding and neglecting it. For this is neglecting to do 
what is expressly enjoined us, for continuing those benefits 
to the world, and transmitting them down to future times. 
And all this holds, even though the only thing to be consi- 
dered in -Christianity were its subserviency to natural reli- 
gion. Bat, 

II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view, as 
containing an account of a dispensation of things, not at all 
discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several dis- 
tinct precepts are enjoined us. Christianity is not only 
an external institution of natural rehgion, and a new pro- 

* Rev. xxii. 11. 
19* 



222 



OF THE niPOKTANCE 



[part 11, 



mulgation of God's general providence, as righteous Govei 
nor and Judge of the world : but it contains also a revelation 
of a particular dispensation of Providence, caiTving on by 
his Son and Spirit, for the recovery and salvation of mankind, 
who are represented, in Scripture, to be in a state of ruin. 
And, in consequence of this revelation being made, we are 
commanded to be baptized^ not only in the name of the Father^ 
but also of the Sorij and of the Holy Ghost ; and other obliga- 
tions of duty, unknown before, to the Son and the Holy 
Ghost, are revealed. Now, the importance of these duties 
may be judged of, by observing that they arise, not from 
positive command merely, but also from the offices which 
appear, from Scripture, to belong to those divine persons in 
the gospel dispensation, or from the relations which, we are 
there informed, they stand in to us. By reason is revealed 
the relation which God the Father stands in to us. Hence 
arises the obhgation of duty which we are under to him. In 
Scripture are revealed the relations which the Son and Holy 
Spirit stand in to us. Hence arise the obligations of duty 
which we are under to them. The truth of the case, as one 
may speak, in each of these three respects, being admitted, 
that God is the Governor of the World, upon the evidence of 
reason ; that Christ is the Mediator between God and man, 
and the Holy Ghost our Guide and Sanctifier, upon the evi- 
dence of revelation : the truth of the case, I say, in each of 
these respects, being admitted, it is no more a question, why 
it should be commanded that we be baptized in the name of 
the Son and of the Holy Ghost, than that we be baptized in 
the name of the Father. This matter seems to require to 
be more fully stated.^ 

Let it be remembered, then, that religion comes under the 
twofold consideration of internal and external ; for the latter 
is as real a part of religion, of true religion, as the former. 
Now, when religion is considered under the first notion as 
an inward principle, to be exerted in such and such inward 
acts of the mind and heart, the essence of natural religion 
may be said to consist in religious regards to God the Father 
^mighty ; and the essence of revealed religion, as distin- 
guished from natural, to consist in religious regards to the 
Son J and to the Holy Ghost. And the obhgation we are un- 
der, of paying these religious regards to each of these di- 

* See the Nature, Obligation, and Efficacy, of the Christian Sacra^ 
ments, &c, and Colliber on Revealed religion, as there quoted, 



CHAP. I.] 



OF CHRISTIANITY. 



223 



vine persons resjoectively, arises fi'om the respectiA e relations 
which they each stand in to us. How these relations are 
made known, whether by reason or revelation, makes no al- 
teration in the case ; because the duties arise out of the rela- 
tions themselves, not out of the manner in which we are in- 
formed of them. The Son and Spirit have each his proper 
office in that great dispensation of Providence, the redemp- 
tion of the world ; the one our Mediator, the other our Sanc- 
tiner. Does not, then, the duty of rehgious regards to both 
these divine persons, as immediately arise, to the view of 
reason, out of the very nature of these offices and relations, 
as the inward good vcill and kind attention, which we owe to 
our fellow-creatures, arises out of the common relations be- 
tvv^een us and them ? But it will be asked, ' What are the 
inward religious regards, appearing thus obviously due to tLe 
Son and Holy Spirit, as arising, not merely from command 
in Scripture, but from the very nature of the revealed rela- 
tions vv^hich they stand in to us ? ' I answer, the religious 
regards of reverence, honor, love, trust, gratitude, fear, hope. 
In what external manner this inward worship is to he ex- 
pressed, is a matter of pure revealed command ; as perhaps, 
the external manner in which God the Father is to be wor- 
shipped, may be more so than w^e are ready to think ; but 
the worship, the internal worship itself, to the Son and Ho- 
ly Ghost, is no farther matter of pure revealed command, 
than as the relations they stand in to us, are matter of pure 
revelation ; for the relations being known, the obligations to 
such internal worship are obligations of reason, arising out 
of those relations themselves. In short, the history of the 
gospel as immediately shows us the reason of these obliga- 
tions, as it shows us the meaning of the words, Son and Ho- 
ly Ghost. 

If this account of the Christian religion be just, those ffer- 
sons who can speak hghtlyof it,as of little consequence, provi- 
ded natural religion be kept to, plainly forget, that Chris- 
tianity, even what is pecuharly so called, as distinguished 
from natural religion, has jei somewhat veryimportant, even 
of amoral nature. For the office of our Lord being made known^ 
and the relation he stands in to us, the obligation of religious 
regards to him is plainly moral, as much as charity to man- 
kind is ; since this obligation arises, before external com- 
mand, immediately out of that his office and relation itself. 
Those persons appear to forget, that revelation is to be con- 
sidered as informing us of somewhat new in the state of man- 



224 



OF the: importance 



[part n 



kind, and in the goverment of the world ; as acquainting us 
with some relations we stand in, which could not otherwise 
have been known. And these relations being real, (though 
before revelation we could be under no obligations from them^ 
yet upon their being revealed,) there is no reason to think, but 
that neglect of behaving suitably to them will be attended 
with the same kind of consequences under God's governmentj 
as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations made 
know^n to us by reason. And ignorance, whether unavoida- 
ble or voluntarj^, so far as w^e can possibly see, will, just as 
much, and just as little, excuse in one case as in the other : 
the ignorance being supjiosed equally unavoidable, or 
equally voluntary, in both cases. 

If, therefore, Christ be indeed the Mediator between God 
aiid man, i. e. if Christianity be true ; if he be indeed our 
Lord, our Saviour, and our God, no one can say what may 
follow, not only the obstinate, but the careless, disregard to 
him in those high relations. Na}^, no one can say what 
may follow such disregard, even in the w^ay of natural con- 
sequence.* For, as the natural consequences of vice in this 
life are doubtless to be considered as judicial punishments 
inflicted by God, so likewise, for aught we know^, the judicial 
punishments of the future life may be, in a like w^ay, or a 
like sense, the natural consequence of vice ;| of men's vio 
lating or disregarding the relations which God has placed 
them in here, and made known to them. 

Again, If mankind are corrupted and depraved in their 
moral character, and so are unfit for that state which Chiist 
is gone to prepare for his disciples ; and if the assistance of 
God's Spirit be necessary to renew their nature, in a degree 
requisite to their being qualified for that state ; all which is 
impHed in the express, though figurative, declaration, Ex- 
cept a man he horn of the Spirit^ he cannot enter into the king- 
dom of God :J supposing this, is it possible any serious per- 
son can think it a slight matter, whether or no he makes 
use of the means, expressly commanded by God, for obtain- 
ing tliis divine assistance 1 especially since the whole analo- 
gy of nature show^s , that we are not to expect any benefits, 
without making use of the appointed means for obtaining or 
enjoying them. Now, reason shows us nothing of the par- 
ticular immediate means of obtainmg either temporal or 



♦ Pages 83, 84. t Chap. 5. 



% John iii. 5. 



CHAP. I.] 



OP CHRISTIANITY. 



225 



spiritual benefits. This, therefore, we must learn, either 
from experience or revelation. And experience the present 
case does not admit of 

The conclusion from all this evidently is, that Christianity 
being supposed either true or credible, it is unspeakable 
irreverence, and really the most presumptuous rashness, to 
treat it as a light matter. It can never justly be esteemed 
of little consequence, till it be positively supposed false. Nor 
do I know a higher and more important obligation which 
we are under, than that of examining most seriously into 
the evidence of it, supposing its credibility ; and of embrac- 
ing it, upon supposition of its truth. 

The two following deductions mviy be proper to be added, 
in order to illustrate the foregoing observations, and to pre- 
vent their being mistaken. 

First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the distinc- 
tion between what is positive and what is moral in religion. 
Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we see ; 
positive precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we do 
not see.* Moral duties arise out of the nature of the case 
itself, prior to external command. Positive duties do not 
arise out of the nature of the case, but from external com- 
mand 5 nor would thej^ be duties at all, were it not for such 
command received from him, whose creatures and subjects 
we are. But the manner in which the nature of the case, 
or the fact of the relation, is made known, this doth not de- 
nominate any dut}^, either positive or moral. That wg be 
baptized in the name of the Father, is as much a positive 
duty as that we be baptized in the name of the Son : be- 
cause both arise equally from revealed command : though 
the relation which we stand in to God the Father, is made 
known to us by reason ; the relation we stand in to Christ, 
by revelation only. On the other hand, the dispensation of 
the gospel admitted, gratitude as immediately becomes due 
to Christ, from his being the voluntary minister of this dis- 
pensation, as it is due to God the Father, from his being the 
fountain of all good ; though the first is made known to us 
hy revelation only, the second b}^ reason. Hence also we 

* This is the distinction betvv^een moral and positive precepts, consider- 
ed respectively as such. But yet, since the latter have somewriat of a mo- 
ral nature, we may see the reason of them considered in this view. Mo- 
ral and positive precepts are in some respects alike, in other respects differ- 
ent. So far as they are alike, we discern the reasons of both ; so far as 
they are different, we discern the reasons of the former, but not of the lat- 
ter. See p. 189, &c. and p. 198. 



226 



OP THE IMPORTANCE 



[fart n. 



may see, and, for distinctness sake, it may be worth men- 
tioning, that positive institutions come mider a twofold con- 
sideration. They are either institutions founded on natural 
religion, as baptism in the name of the Father ; though thi=i 
has also a particular reference to the gospel dispensation, 
for it is in the name of God, as the Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ ; or they are external institutions founded on revealed 
religion, as baptism in the name of the Son, and of the Hch- 
Gliost. 

Secondly^ From the distinction between what is moral and 
what is positive in religion, appears the ground of that pe- 
culiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us to be due 
to the form.er. 

The reason of positive institutions in general is very obvi- 
ous, though we should not see the reason why such parti- 
cular ones are pitched upon, rather than others. Whoever, 
therefore, instead of cavilhng at words, will attend to the 
thing itself, may clearly see, that positive institutions in 
genera], as distinguished from this or that particular one, 
have the nature of moral commands : since the reasons of 
them appear. Thus, for instance, the external worship of 
God is a moral dut}', though no particular mode of it be so. 
Care then is to be taken, when a comparison is made be- 
tween positive and moral duties, that they be compared no 
farther than as the}' are different ; no farther than as the 
former are positive, or arise out of mere external command, 
the reasons of which we are not acquainted with ; and as 
the latter are moral, or arise oat of the apparent reason of 
the ca.se, without such external commiand. Unless this cau- 
tion be observed, v^^e shall run into endless confusion. 

Now, this being premised, suppose two standing precepts 
enjoined by the same authority ; that, in certain conjunctures 
it IS impossible to obey both ; that the former is moral, i. e. a 
precept of which we see the reasons, and that they hold in 
the particular case before us : but that the latter is positive, 
i. e. a precept of wdiich we do not see the reasons : it is in- 
disputa-ble that our obligations are to obej' the former, becaiLse 
there is an apparent reason for this preference, and none 
against it. Farther, positive institutions, I suppose all those 
which Christianity enjoins, are means to a nioral end ; and 
the end must be acknov/ledged more excellent than the 
means. Nor is observance of these institutions any religious 
obedience at all, or of any value, otherwise than as it pro- 
ceeds from a moral principle. This seems to be the strict 

1 



CHAP. I.] 



OF CHRISTIANITY. 



logical way of stating* and determining this matter ; but 
will, perhaps, be found less applicable to practice, than may 
be thought at first sight. 

And therefore, in a more practical, though more lax way 
of consideration, and taking the words, 7noral laio and positvye 
institutions J in the popular sense ; I add, that the whole 
moral law is as much matter of revealed command, as posi» 
tive institutions are ; for the scripture enjoins every moral 
virtue. In this respect, then, they are both upon a level. 
But the moral law is, moreover, written upon our hearts, in- 
terwoven into our very nature. And this is a plain intima- 
tion of the Author of it, vvhich is to be preferred, when they 
interfere. 

But there is not altogether so much necessity for the de- 
termination of this question as some persons seem to think. 
Nor are we left to reason alone to determine it. For, Jlrst^ 
Though m.ankind have in all ages been greatly prone to 
])lace their religion in peculiar positive rites, by v/ay of equi- 
valent for obedience to moral precepts ; •^■et, without making 
any com-parison at all between them, and consequently with- 
out determining which is to have the preference, the nature 
of the thing abundantlj^ shows all notions of that kind to be 
utterly subversive of true religion ; as they are, moreover, 
contrary to th^^ whole general tenor of Scripture, and like- 
wise to the most express particular declarations of it, that 
nothing can render us accepted of God, without moral virtue. 
Secondly^ Upon the occasion of mentioning together positive 
and moral duties, the Scripture alwaj's puts the stress of re- 
ligion upon the latter, and never upon the former ; which, 
though no sort of allowance to neglect the former, when they 
do not interfere with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that 
when they do, the latter are to be preferred. And, farther, 
as mankind are for placing the stress of their rehgion any 
where, rather than upon virtue, lest both the reason of the 
thing, and the general spirit of Chriistianit}- , appearing in the 
intimation now mentioned, should be ineffectual against this 
prevalent folly ; our Lord himself, from whose command 
alone the obligation of positive institutions arises, has taken 
occasion to make the comparison between them and moral 
precepts, when the Pharisees censured him for eating loith 
publicans and sinners ; and also when they censured his dis- 
ciples for plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath day. Upon 
this comparison he has determined expressly, and in form, 
which shall have the preference when they interfere. And 



328 



OF THE IMPORTANCE 



[part 11. 



by delivering his authoritative determination in a proverbial 
manner of expression, he has made it gener?J : / luill have 
mercy^ and not sacrifice.'^ The propriety of the word prover- 
bial is not the thing insisted upon, though, I think, the man- 
ner of speaking is to be called so. But that the manner of 
speaking very remarkably renders the determination general, 
is surely indisputable. For, had it, m the latter case, been 
said only, that God preferred mercy to the rigid observance 
of the Sabbath, even then, by parity of reason, most justly 
might we have argued, that he preferred mercy, hkewise, to 
the observance of other ritual institutions, and, in general, 
moral duties to positive ones. And thus the determination 
would have beeii general, though its being so were infen'ed, 
and not expressed. But as the passage really stands in tlie 
gospel, it is. much stronger ; for the sense, and the very lite- 
ral words of oar Lord's answer, are as applicable to any 
other instance of a comparison, between positive and moral 
duties, as to this upon which they were spoken. And if, in 
case of competitioi:^ mercy is to be preferred to positive in- 
stitutions, it will scarce be thought, that justice is to give 
place to them. It is remarkable, too, that, as the words are 
a quotation from the Old Testament, they are introduced, on 
both of the forementioned occasions, with a declaration, that 
the Pharisees did not understand the meaning of them. This, 
I say, is very remarkable ; for, since it is scarce possible for 
the most ignorant person not to understand the literal sense 
of the passage in the Prophet, | and since understanding the 
literal sense would not have prevented their condemning the 
guiltless, \ it can hardly be doubted, that the thing which our 
Lord really intended in that declaration was, that the Phari- 
sees had not learnt from it, as they might, wherein the gene- 
ral spirit of religion consists ; that it consists in moral piety 
and virtue, as distinguished from forms and ritual observan- 
ces. Howev.er, it is certain we may learn this from his di- 
\'ine application of the passage, in the gospel. 

ButjEis it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of humam nature, 
when, upon a comparison of two things, one is found to be of 
greater importance than the other, to consider this other as 
of scarce any importance at all ; it is highly necessary that 
we remind ourselves, how great presumption it is to make light 



* Matt. ix. 13, and xii. 7. 
X See Matt, xii. 7. 



t Hos. vL 



CHAP. I.] 



OF CHRISTIANITV. 



2S9 



of any institutions of divine appointment : that our obligations 
to obey all God's commands whatever, are absolute and in- 
dispensable ; and that commands merely positive, admitted 
to be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey them ; 
an obligation moral in the strictest and m.ost proper sense. 

To these things T camiot forbear adding, that the account 
now given of Christianity most strongly shows and enforces 
upon us the obligation of searching the Scriptures, in order 
to see what the scheme of revelation really is instead of deter- 
mining beforehand, from reason, what the scheme of it 
must be.* Indeed, if in revelation there be found any pas- 
sages, the seeming meaning of which is contrary to natural 
rehgion, we may most certainty conclude such seeming 
m.eaning not to be the real one. But it is not any degree of 
presuniption against an interpretation of Scriptures, that such 
interpretation contains a doctrine, which the Hght of nature 
cannot discover,| or a precept, which the law of nature does 
not oblige to. 

* See Chap. 3. t Pages 20i, 205. 



20 



230 



CP THfi SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PART 11. 



CHAPTER II. 

Of the Supposed Presumption against a Revelation^ considr 
ered as Miraculous. 

Having shown the importance of the Christian revela- 
tion, and the obhgations which we are under seriously to at- 
tend to it, upon supposition of its truth or its credibility ; the 
next thing in order is, to consider the supposed presumptions 
against revelation in general, which shall be the subject of 
this chapter ; and the objections against the Christian in 
particular, which shall be the subject of some following 
ones.* For it seems the most natural method to remove 
these prejudices against Christianity, before we proceed to 
the consideration of the positi\ e evidence for it, and the ob- 
jections against that evidence. y 

It is, I think, commonly supposed, that there is some pe- 
culiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the 
Christian scheme of things, at least against miracles ; so as 
that stronger evidence is necessary to prove the truth and 
reality of them, than would be sufficient to convince us of 
other events or matters of fact. Indeed, the consideration 
of this supposed presumption cannot but be thought very in- 
significant by many persons ; yet, as it belongs to the sub 
ject of this treatise, so it may tend to open the mind, and re- 
move some prejudices ; however needless the consideratio?i 
of it be, upon its own account. 

I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the anal- 
ogy of nature, against the general scheme of Chiistianity, 
that God created and invisibly governs the world by Jesus 
Christ, and by him also will hereafter judge it in righteous- 
ness, i. e. render to every one according to his works ; and 
that good men are under the secret influence of his Spirit. 



f Chap. 3, 4, 5, 6 



t Chap. 7. 



CHAP. II.] 



AGAINST MIRACLES. 



2^1 



Wliether these things are. or are not, to be called miraculoas, 
is, perhaps, only a question about vvords ; or, however, is of 
no moment in the case. If the analogy of nature raises any 
presumption against this general scheme of Christianitj/, it 
must be, either because it is not discovera,ble by reason 
or experience, or else because it is unlike that course of na- 
ture, which is. But analogy raises no presumption against 
the truth of this scheme, upon either of these accounts. 

Firsts There is no presumption, from analogy, against the 
truth of it, upon account of its not being discoverable by 
reason or experience. For, suppose one Vv'ho never heard 
of revelation, of the most improved understanding, and ac- 
quainted with our whole sj^stem of natural philosophj^ and 
natural rehgion : such a one could not but be sensible, thai 
it Vv^as but a verj' small part of the natural and moral systeni 
of the universe, which he was acquainted with. He could 
not but be sensible, that there must be innumere.ble things, 
in the dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible go- 
vernnient over the world at present carrjdng on, and in what 
is to come, of which he was v/hbd}^ ignorant,"^ and which 
could not be discovered without revelation. Whether the 
scheme of nature be, in the strictest sense, infinite or not, it 
is evidently vast, even bej/ond all possible imagination. 
And, doubtless, that part of it vsdiich is opened to our view, 
is but as a point, in comparison of the whole plan of Provi- 
dence, reaching throughout eternity, past and future : in 
comparison of what is even now going on in the rem.ote parts 
of the boundless universe ; nay. in comparison of the whoie 
scheme of this vv orld. And, therefore, that things lie beyond 
the natural reach of our faculties, is no sort of presumption 
against the truth and reality of them ; because it is certain, 
there are innumerable things in the constitution and govern- 
m.ent of the universe, Vvdiich are thus bej'ond the natural 
reach of our faculties. Secondly^ Analog}^ raises no pre- 
sumption against any of the things contained in this general 
doctrine 0/ Scripture now mentioned, upon account of their 
being unlike the known course of nature. For there is no 
presumption at all, from analogy, that the lohole course of 
things, or divine government, naturally unknown to us, and 
every thing in it, is like to any thing in that which is known ; 
and therefore no peculiar presumption against any thing in 
ihe former, upon account of its being unlike to any thing in 



* Page 170. 



232 



OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PART II. 



the latter. And in the constitution and natural government 
of the world, as well as in the moral government of it, we 
see things, in a great degree, unlike one another : and there- 
fore ought not to wonder at such milikeness between things 
visible and invisible. However, the scheme of Christianity 
is by no means entirely unlike the scheme of nature ; as will 
^ appear in the foUovv^ng part of this treatise. 

The notion of a miracle, considered as a proof of a di- 
vine mission, has been stated with great exactness by di- 
vines ; and is, I think, sufficiently understood by every one. 
There are also invisible miracles ; the incarnation of Christ, 
for instance, which, being secret, cannot be alledged as a 
proof of such a mission ; but require themselves to be pro- 
ved by visible miracles. Revelation, itself, too, is miraculous 
and miracles are the proof of it; and the supposed presump- 
tion against these shall presently be considered. AH whici^ 
I have been observing here is, that, whether we choose to 
call every thing in the dispensations of Providence, not dis- 
coverable without revelation, nor like the known course of 
things, miraculous ; and vvhether the general Cluistian dis- 
pensation now mentioned, is to be called so, or not ; the fore- 
going observations seem certainly to show, that there is no 
presumption against it, from the analog}^ of nature. 

II. There is no presumption, from analogy, against some 
operations, which we should now call miraculous ; particu- 
larly, none against a revelation, at the beginning of the 
Vv^orkl ; nothing of such presumptions against it, as is sup- 
posed to be implied or expressed in the word miraculous. 
For a miracle, in its veiy notion, is relative to a course of 
nature ; and implies somewhat different from it, considered 
as being so. Now, either there was no course of nature at 
the time which we are speaking of ; or if there were, we are 
not acquainted what the course of nature is upon the first 
peopling of worlds. And therefore the question, whether 
mankind had a revelation made to them at that time is to be 
considered, not as a question concerning a miracle, but as a 
common question of fact. And we have the like reason, be 
it more or less, to admit the report of tradition concerning 
this question and concerning common matters of fact of the 
same antiquity ; for instance, what pan of the earth waa 
first peopled. 

Or thus : When mankind was first placed in tliis state, 
there was a power exerted, totally different from the present 
course of nature. Now, whether this power, thus wholly 

t 



CHAP. II. 1 



AGAINST MIRACLES. 



233 



different from the present com'se of nature ; for we cannot 
properly apply to it the word miraculous : whether this poY\'Gr 
stopped immediately after it had made man, or went on. and 
exerted itself farther in giving him a revelation, is a question 
of the same kind, as whether an ordinarj' power exerted itself 
in such a particular degree and manner, or not. 

Or suppose the power exerted in the formation of the v\-orld 
be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called by the name, 
the case will not be different ; since it must be acknowledged, 
that such a power was exerted. For supposing it acknow- 
ledged that our Saviour spent some years in a course of 
working miracles ; there is no more presumption, worth men- 
tioning, against his having exerted this miraculous power, 
in a certain degree greater, than in a certain degree less : in 
one or two more instances, than in one or two fewer ; in this, 
than in another manner. 

It is evident, then, that therecan be nopeculiar presumption, 
from the analogy of nature, against supposing a revelation, 
when man was first placed upon the earth. 

Add, that there does not appear the least intimation in 
history or tradition, that religion was first reasoned out : but 
the whole of history and tradition makes for the other side, 
that it came into the world by revelation. Indeed, the state 
of religion in the fii'st ages, of which we have any account 
seems to suppose and imply, that this was the original of 
it amongst mankind, iind these reflections together, with- 
out taking in the peculiar authority of Scripture, amount to 
real and very material degree of evidence, that there was a 
revelation at the beginning of the world. Now this, as it is 
a confirmation of natural religion, and therefore mentioned in 
the former part of this treatise :^ so, likewise, it has a ten- 
dency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent revela- 
tion. 

III. But still it may be objected, that there is some pecu- 
liar presumption from analog}', against miracles ; particular- 
ly against- revelation, after the settlem.ent and during the 
continuance of a course of nature. 

Now, with regard to this supposed presumption, it is to 
be observed in general, that before we can have ground foi 
raising what can, with any propriety^, be called an argimem 
from analogy, for or against revelation considered as some- 
what miraculous, we must be acquainted with a similar or 



* Page 163, ^cc. 
20* 



234 



or THE SUPPOSED PKESUMPTION [PART IK 



parallel case. But the histoiy of some other world, seerfimglv 
m like chcLimstances with our own, is no more than a parallel 
case ; and therefore nothing short of this can be so. Yet, 
could we come at a presumptive proof, for or against a reve- 
lation, from being informed whether such world had one, or 
not ; such a proof, being drawn from one single instance 
only, must be infinitely precarious. More particularly : Fii'st 
of ail, There is a very strong presumption against common 
speculative truths, and against the most ordiiicCry facts, before 
the proof of them ; which yet is overcome by almost any- 
proof There is a presumption of millions to one, against the 
stor}' of Ccesar^ or of any other man. For suppose a number 
of common facts so and so circumstanced, of which one had 
no knid of proof, should happen to come into one's thoughts ; 
every one would, without any possible doubt, conclude them 
to be false. An*! the like maj^ be said of a single common 
fact. And from hence it appears, that the question of im- 
portance, as to the matter before us, is, concerning the degree 
of the peculiar presumption supposed agamst miracles ; not 
whether there be any peculiar presumption at all against 
them. For, if there be the presumption of miUions to one, 
against the most common facts, what can a small presump- 
tion, additional to this, amount to, though it be pecuKar ? It 
cannot be estimated, and is as notliing. The 011I3- material 
question is, whether there be any such presumption against 
miracles, as to render them in any sort incredible 1 Secondly ^ 
If we leave out the consideration of religion, we are in such 
total darkness, upon what causes, occasions, reasons, or cir- 
cumstances, the present course of nature depends, that there 
does not appear an}^ im.probabilit}^ for or against supposing, 
that five or six thousand 3'ears may have given scope for 
causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, from whence 
miraculous interpositions may have arisen. And from this, 
joined with the foregoing observation, it will follow, that there 
must be a presumption, beyond all comiparison. greater, against 
the particular common facts just now instanced in, than 
against miracles in general ; before any e\adence of either. 
But, thirdly^ Take in the consideration of religion, or the 
moral sj'stem of the world, and then we see distinct particu- 
lar reasons for miracles : to afford mankind instruction addi- 
tional to that of nature, and to attest the truth of it. And 
this gives a real credibility to the supposition, that it might be 
part of the original plan of things, that there should be mi- 
raculous intevDositions. Thf^n, fastly. Miracles mu^t not he 



CHAP. II.] 



AGAINST MIRACLES. 



235 



compared to common natm'al events ; or to events which, 
though uncommon, are similar to what we daily experience ; 
but to the extraordinary phenomena of nature. And then 
the comparison will be, between the presumption against 
miracles, and the presumption against such uncommon ap- 
pearances, suppose, as comets, and against there being any 
such powers in nature as magnetism and electricity, so con- 
trary to the properties of other bodies not endued with these 
powers. And before any one can determine, whether there 
be any peculiar presumption against miracles, more than 
against other extraordinary things, he must consider, what, 
upon first hearing, would be the presumption against the last 
mentioned appearances and powers, to a person acquainted 
only with the daily, monthly, and annual course of nature 
respecting this earth, and mth those common powers of 
matter which we every day see. 

Upon all this I conclude. That there certainly is no such 
presumption against miracles, as to render them in any mse 
incredible ; that, on the contrary, our being able to discern 
i reasons for them, gives a positive credibility to the history of 
them, in cases where those reasons hold ; and that it is by 
no means certain, that there is any peculiar presumption at 
all, from analogy, even in the lowest degree, against miracles, 
as distinguished from other extraordinary phenomena ; though 
it is not worth while to perplex the reader with inquiries into 
the abstract nature of evidence, in order to determine a ques- 
tion, which, without such inquiries, we see* is of no impor- 
tance. 



♦Page 180. 



236 



THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION fPART JI 



CHAPTER III. 



Of our Incapacity of Judging, what were to he expected in 
a Revelation ; and the Credibility from Analogy, that it 
mv^t contain Things appearing liable to Objections. 

Besides the objections against the endence for Christianity, 
many are alleged against the scheme of it ; against the whole 
manner in which it is put and left w^th the world ; as well as 
against several particular relations in Scripture : objections 
drawn from the deficiencies of revelation : from things in it ap- 
pearing to men foolishness from its containing matters of 
offence, which have led, and it must have been foreseen, 
would lead, into strange enthusiasm and superstition, and be 
made to serve the purposes of tjTanny and ^vickedness ; fi*om 
its not being universal ; and, which is a thing of the same 
kind, fi'om its evidence not being so convincing and satisfac- 
tory as it might have been ; for this last is sometimes tm'ned 
into a positive argument against its truth. | It would be te 
dious, indeed impossible, to enumerate the several particulars 
comprehended imder the objections here referred to, they 
being so various, according to the different fancies of men. 
There are persons, who think it a strong objection against 
the authority of Scripture, that it is not composed by rules of 
art, agreed upon by critics, for polite and correct writing. 
And the scorn is inexpressible, with which some of the pro- 
phetic parts of Scripture are treated; partly through the 
rashness of interpreters, but very much also on account of the 
hieroglyphic al and figm'ative language in which they are 
left us. Som.e of the principal things of this sort shall be 
particularly considered in. the follo^ving chapters. But my 
design at present is to observe, in general, with respect to this 
whole way of arguing, that, upon supposition of a revelation, 



* 1 Cor. i. 18. 



t See Chap. 6. 



CHAP. 111.] 



LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 



237 



it is highly credible beforehandj we should be incompetent 
judges of itj to a great degree ; and that it would contain 
many things appearing to us liable to great objections, in case 
we judge of it otherwise than by the analogy of nature. And, 
therefore, though objections agauist the evidence of Chris- 
tianity are more seriously to be considered, yet objections 
against Cluisiianity itself are, in a great measure, frivolous ; 
almost all objections against it, excepting those w^iich are al- 
leged against the particular proofs of its coming from God. 
I express myself with caution, lest I should be mistaken to 
vilify reason, which is indeed the only faculty we have 
wherewith to judge concerning any thing, even revelation 
itself; or be mismiderstood to assert, that a supposed revela- 
tion cannot be proved false from internal characters. For, 
it may contain clear immoralities or contradictions ; and either 
of these would prove it false. Nor will I take upon me to 
affirm, that nothing else can possiblj' render any supposed 
revelation incredible. Yet still the observation above is, I 
thuik, true bej^ond doubt, that objections against Christiaixit}', 
as distinguished from objections against its e\idence, are 
frivolous. To make out this, is the general design of the 
present chapter. And, wiili regard to the whole of it, I can- 
not but particularly wish, that the proofs might be attended 
to, rather than the assertions cavilled at, upon account of any 
unacceptable consequences, whether real or supposed, which 
may be drawn from them. For after all, that vrhich is true, 
must be admitted ; though it should shov/ us the shortness of 
our faculties, and that we are in nowise judges of m.any 
things of which we are apt to think ourselves very comjie- 
tent ones. Nor will this be any objection vdth reasonable 
men : at least, upon second thought, it will not be any objec- 
tion \vilh such, against the justness of the following observa- 
tions. 

As God governs the world, and instructs his creatures, ac- 
cording to certain laws or rules, in the known course of na- 
ture, known hy reason together with experience so the 
Scripture informs us of a scheme of divine Pro\idence, addi- 
tional to this. It relates, that God has, hy revelation, in- 
structed men in things concerning his government, which 
they could not otherwise have known, and reminded them of 
tilings which they might otherwise know ; and attested the 
truth of the whole by miracles. Now, if the natural and the 
revealed dispensation of tilings are both from God, if they 
coincide with each other, and together make up one scheme 



238 



THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [^PART II. 



of Providence, our being incompetent judges of one, must 
render it credible that we may be incompetent judges also of 
the other. Since, upon experience, the acknowledged con- 
stitution and course of nature is found to be greatly different 
from w^hat, before experience, would have been expected; 
and such as, men fancy, there lie great objections against : 
This renders it beforehand highly credible, that they may 
find the revealed dispensation Kkewise, if they judge of it -as 
they do of the constitution of nature, very different from ex- 
pectations formed beforehand ; and Kable, in appearance, to 
great objections : objections against the scheme itself, and 
against the degrees and manners of the miraculous interposi- 
tions, by which it was attested and carried on. Thus, sup- 
pose a prince to govern his dominions in the ^^dsest mamier 
possible, by common known laws : and that upon some exi- 
gencies he should suspend these laws, and govern, in several 
iiistances, in a different manner : if one of his subjects were 
not a competent judge beforehand, by what common rules 
the government should or would be carried on, it could not be 
expected that the same person would be a competent judge, 
in what exigencies, or in what manner, or to what degree, 
those laws commonly observed would be suspended or de- 
viated from. If he were not a judge of the wisdom of the 
ordinary administration, there is no reason to think he would 
be a judge of the wisdom of the extraordinary. If he thought 
he had objections against the former, doubtless, it is highly 
supposable, he might think also, that he had objections 
against the latter. And thus, as we fall into infmite follies 
and mistakes, whenever we pretend, otherwise than from ex- 
perience and analogy, to judge of the constitution and course 
of nature, it is e^ddently supposable beforehand, that we should 
fall into as great, in pretending to judge, in like manner, con- 
cerning revelation. Nor is there any more ground to expect 
that this latter should appear to us clear of objections, than 
that the former should. 

These observations, relating to the Vvdiole of Christianity, 
are applicable to inspiration in particular. As we are in no 
sort judges beforehand, by v\'hat laws or rules, in what degree, 
or by what means, it were to have been expected that God 
would naturally instruct us ■ so, upon supposition of his 
affording us light and instruction by revelation, additional to 
what he has afForded us by reason and experience, we byb in 
no sort judges, by what methods, and in what proportion, it 
were to be expected 'hat this supernatural light and instruc- 



CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS 239 

tion would be afforded us. We know not beforehand, what 
degree or kind of natural information it were to be expected 
God would afford men, each by his own reason and experi- 
ence ; nor how far he would enable, and effectually dispose 
them to communicate it, whatever it should be, to each other ; 
nor whether the evidence of it would be certain, highly pro- 
bable, or doubtful ; nor whether it would be given with equal 
clearness and conviction to all. Nor could we guess, upon 
any good ground I mean, whether natural knowledge, or 
even the faculty itself by which we are capable of attaining 
it, reason, would be given us at once, or gradually. In like 
manner, we are wholly ignorant what degree of new know- 
ledge it were to be expected God would give mankind by 
revelation, upon supposition of his affording one ; or how far, 
or in what way, he would interpose miraculously, to qualify 
them, to whom he should originally make the revelation, for 
communicating the knowledge given by it ; and to secure 
their doing it to the age in which they should live, and to 
secure its being transmitted to posterity. We are equally 
ignorant, whether the evidence of it would be certain, or 
nighly probable, or doubtful or whether all who should 
have any degree of instruction from it, and any degree of evi- 
dence of its truth, would have the same ; or whether the 
scheme would be revealed at once, or unfolded gradually. 
Nay, we are not in any sort able to judge, whether it were to 
have been expected, that the revelation should have been 
committed to writing ; or left to be handed down, and conse- 
quently corrupted, by verbal tradition, and at length sunk 
under it, if mankind so pleased, and during such time as they 
are permitted, in the degree they evidently are, to act as they 
will. 

Bat it may be said, ' that a revelation in some of the 
above-micntioned circumstances ; one, for instance, which was 
not committed to writing, and thus secured against danger of 
corruption, Vvould not have answered its purpose.' I ask, 
what purpose ? It would not have answered all the purposes 
which it has now answered, and in the same degree ; but it 
would have answered others, or the same in different degrees. 
And which of these were the purposes of God, and best fell 
in viith his general government, we could not at all have de- 
termined beforehand. 

Now since it has been shown, that we have no principles 



* See Chap. 6, 



240 



THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [PART II. 



of reason upon which to judge beforehand, how it were to be 
expected revelation should have been left, or what was most 
suitable to the divine plan of government, in any of the fore- 
m.entioned respects ; it must be quite frivolous to object after- 
v/ards as to any of them, against its being left in one way, 
rather than another ; for this would be to object against 
thmgs, upon account of their being different from expecta- 
tions which have been shown to be without reason. And 
thus we see, that the only question concerning the truth of 
Christianity is, whether it be a real revelation ; not whether 
it be attended ^\'ith every circumstance which we should 
have looked for : and concerning the authority of Scripture, 
whether it be what it claims to be ; not whether it be a book 
of such sort, and so promulged, as weak men are apt to 
fancy a book containing a divine revelation should. And 
therefore neither obscurity, nor seeming inaccuracy of stj'le, 
nor various readings, nor early disputes about the authors of 
particular parts, nor any other things of the like kind, though 
they had been much more considerable in degree than they 
are, could overthrow the authority of the Scripture ; unless 
the Prophets, Apostles, or our Lord, had promised, that the 
book, ccntaining th^ divine revelation, should be secure from 
those things. Nor indeed can any objections overthrow such 
a Idnd of revelation as the Christian claims to be, since there 
are no objections against the m.orality of it,* but such as can 
show, that there is no proof of miracles wrought originally in 
attestation of it ; no appearance of any thing miraculous in 
its obtaining in the world ; nor any of prophecy, that is, 
of events foretold, which human sagacity could not foresee, 
If it can be shown, that the proof alleged for all these is ab- 
solutely none at all, then is revelation overturned. But were 
it allowed, that the proof of anj^ one, or all of them, is lower 
than is allowed ; yet wliilst any proof of them remains, reve- 
lation will stand upon much the same foot it does at present, 
as to all the purposes of life and practice, and ought to have 
the like influence upon our behaviour. 

From the foregoing observations, too, it will follow, and 
those who will thoroughly exaixiine into revelation will find 
it worth remarking, that there are several ways of arguing, 
which, though just with regard to other writings, are not ap- 
plicable to Scripture ; at least not to the prophetic parts of it. 
We cannot argue, for instance, that this cannot be the sense 



* Page 192. 



CHAP, ni.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 



241 



or intent of such a passage of Scripture, for if it had, it would 
have been expressed more plainly, or have been represented 
under a more apt figure or hieroglyphic ; yet we may justly 
argue thus, with respect to common books. And the reason 
of this difference is verj^ evident ; that in Scripture we are not 
competent judges, as we are in common books, how plainly 
it were to have been expected, what is the true sense should 
have been expressed, or under how apt an miage figured. 
The only question is, what appearance there is that this is 
the sense 1 and scarce at all, how much more determinately 
or accurate!}^ it might have heen expressed or figured ? : 

' But is it not self-e\'ident, that internal improbabilities of 
all kinds, weaken external pr:^bable proof ?' Doubtless. But 
to what practical purpose can this be alleged here, when it 
has been proved before,^ that real internal improbabilities, 
which rise even to moral certaintj^, are overcome bj^ the most 
ordinary testimony ? and when it now has been made appear, 
that we scarce know what are improbabilities, as to the mat- 
ter we are here consideiing ? as it will farther appear from 
what follows. 

For though, from the observations above made, it is mani- 
fest, that we are not in any sort competent judges, what su- 
pernatural instruction were to have been expected; and 
though it is self-e\ident, that the objections of an incompetent 
judgment must be fiivolous : yet it ma.y be proper to go one 
step farther, and observe, that if men will be regardless of 
these things, and pretend to judge of the Scripture by pre- 
conceived expectations, the analogy of nature shows before- 
tiand, not only that it is highW credible they may, but also 
probable that they will, imagine the}^ have strong objections 
against ^t, however really unexceptionable : for so, prior to 
experience, they would think they had, against the circum- 
stances, and degrees, and the whole manner of that instruc 
tion, which is afforded by the ordinary course of nature-. 
Were the instruction which God affords to brute creatures by 
instincts and mere propensions, and to mankind by these to 
gether with reason, matter of probable proof, and not of cer 
tain observation, it would be rejected as incredible, in many 
instances of it, only upon accomit of the means by which this 
instruction is given, the seeming disproportions, the limita- 
tions, necessary conditions, and circumstances of it. For in- 
stance : Would it not have been thought highly improbable, 



* Page 180. 

21 



242 



THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [PART II. 



that men should have been so much more capable of disco- 
vemig", even to certainty, the general laws of matter, and the 
magnitudes, paths, and revolutions of the heavenly bodies ; 
than the occasions and cures of distempers, and many other 
things, in which human life seems so much more nearly con- 
cerned, than in astronomy 1 How capricious and irregular a 
way of information, would it be said, is that of imention^ by 
means of which nature instructs us in matters of science, and 
in many things upon which the affairs of the world greatly 
depend ; that a man should, by this faculty be made ac- 
quainted with a thing in an instant, when, perhaps, he is 
thinking of somewhat else, which he has in vain been search- 
ing after, it may be, for j^ears. So likewise the imperfections 
attending the only method by which nature enables and di- 
rects us to communicate our thoughts to each other, are in- 
numerable. Language is, in its very nature, inadequate, 
ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse, even from negligence ; 
and so liable to it from design, that everj^ man can deceive 
and betray by it. And, to mention but one instance more, 
that brutes, without reason, should act, in many respects, 
with a sagacity and foresight vastly greater than what men 
have in those respects, would be thought impossible. Yet it 
is certain they do act with such superior foresight ; whether 
it be their own, indeed, is another question. From these 
things it is highlj^ credible beforehand, that upon supposition 
God should afford men some additional instruction by revela- 
tion, it would be with circumstances, in manners, degrees, 
and respects, Avhich we should be apt to fancy we had great 
objections against the credibility of Nor are the objections 
against the Scripture, nor against Christianity in general, at 
all more or greater than the analogy of nature would before- 
hand, — not perhaps give ground to expect ; for this analogy 
may not be sufficient, in some cases, to ground an expecta- 
tion upon ; — but no more nor greater, than analogy would 
show it, beforehand, to be supposable and credible, that there 
might seem to lie against revelation. 

By applying these general observations to a particular ob- 
jection, it will be more distinctly seen, how they are applica- 
ble to others of the like kind ; and indeed to almost all ob- 
jections against Christianity, as distinguished from objections 
agamst its eviden-ce. It appears from Scripture, that as it was 
not unusual, in the apostolic age, for persons, upon their con- 
version to Christianity, to be endued with miraculous gifts ; 
feo, some of those persons exercised these gifts in a strangely 



CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 



243 



iiTegular and disorderly manner : and this is made an objec* 
lion against their being really miraculous. Now, the fore- 
going observations quite remove this objection, how consider- 
able soever it may appear at first sight. For, consider a per- 
son endued with any of these gifts, for instance, that of 
tongues ; it is to be supposed, that he had the same power 
over this miraculous gift, as he would have had over it, had 
it been the effect of habit, of study, and use, as it ordinarily 
is ; or the same power over it, as he had over any other na- 
tural endowment. Consequently, he would use it in the same 
mamier he did any other : either regularly and upon proper 
occasions only, or irregularly and upon improper ones ; ac- 
cording to his sense of decency, and his character of prudence. 
Where, then, is the objection I Why, if this miraculous pow- 
er was indeed given to the world to propagate Christianity 
and attest the truth of it, we might, it seems, have expected, 
that other sort of persons should have been chosen to be in- 
vested with it ; or that these should, at the same time, have 
been endued with prudence ; or that they should have been 
continually restrained and directed in the exercise of it ; i. e. 
that God should have miraculously interposed, if at all, in a, 
different manner or higher degree. But, fi'om the observa- 
tions made above, it is undeniably evident, that vv e are not 
judges in what degrees and manners it were to have been ex- 
pected he should miraculouslj^ interpose ; upon supposition 
of his doing it in some degree and manner. Nor, in the na- 
tural course of Providence, are superior gifts of memory, elo- 
quence, knowledge, and othei talents of great influence, con- 
feiTed only on persons of prudence and decency, or such as 
are disposed to make the properest use of them. Nor is the 
instruction and admonition naturally afforded us for the con- 
duct of life, particularly in our education, comunonty given in 
a mamier the most suited to recommend it ; but often with 
circumstances, apt to prejudice us against such instruction. 

One might go on to add, that there is a great resemblance 
between th,e light of nature and of revelation, in several other 
respects. Practical Christianity, or that faith and behaviour 
which renders a man a Christian, is a plain and ob\ious 
thing ; like the common rules of conduct, with respect to our 
ordinary temporal affairs. The more distinct and particular 
knowledge of those things, the study of which the Apostle 
calls, going on unto perfection^^ and of the prophetic parts 



Heb. vi. 1. 



S44 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [PART IL 



of revelatioiij like many parts of natural and even civil know- 
ledge, may require very exact tiiought and careful considera- 
tion. Tlie hinderances, too, of natural and of supernatui'al 
light and knowledge, have been of the same kind. And as 
it is owned the whole scheme of Sciipture is not yet under- 
stood, so, if it ever comes to ba understood, before the restitu- 
tion of all things,^ and without miraculous interpositions, it 
must be in the same v^ay as natural knowledge is come at ; 
by the continuance and progress of learning and of liberty, 
and by particular persons, attending to, comparing and pur- 
suing, intimations scattered up and down it, which are over- 
looked and disregarded by the generality of the world. Foi 
this is the waj^ in which all improvements are made ; by 
thoughtful men tracing on obscure hints, as it were, chopped 
us by nature accidentally, or which seem to come into our 
' minds by chance. Nor is.it at all incredible, that a book, which 
has been so long in the possession of mankind, should con- 
tain many truths as 3^et undiscovered. For, all the same 
phenomena, and the same faculties of investigation, from 
which such great discoveries in natural knowledge have been 
made in the present and last age, were equallj^ in the pos- 
session of mankind several thousand years before. And pos- 
sibly it might be intended, that events, as they come to pass, 
should open and ascertain the meaning of several parts of 
Scripture. 

It may be objected, that this analogy fails in a material re- 
spect ; for that natural knowledge is of little or no conse- 
, queue e. But I have been speaking of the general instruction, 
w^hich nature does or does not afford us. And besides, some 
parts of natural knowledge, in the more common restrained 
sense of the words, are of the greatest consequence to the 
ease and convenience of life. But suppose the analogy did, 
as it does not, fail in this respect, yet it might be abundantly 
supplied from the whole constitution and course of natm'e ; 
w^hich shows, that God does not dispense his gifts according 
to our notions of the advantage and consequence they would 
be of to us. And this in general, with his method of dis- 
pensing knowledge in particular, would together make out 
an analogy full to the point before us. 

But it may be objected still farther, and more generally ; 
*The Scripture represents the world as in a state of ruin, and 
Christianity as an expedient to recover it, to help in these le- 



* Acts iii. 21 = 



CHAP. II!.] 



LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 



245 



spects where nature fails : iii particular to supply the deficien- 
cies of natui'al light. Is it credible^ then, that so many ages 
should have been let pass, before a matter of such a sort, of 
so great and so general importance, was made known to man- 
kind ; and then that it should be m.ade knovv'n to so small a 
part of them ? Is it conceivable, that this suppl}" should be 
so very deficient, should have the like obscurity and doubtful- 
ness, be liable to the like perversions, in short, he open to all 
the like objections, as the light of nature itself ?"* Without 
determining how far this m fact is so, I answer, it is by no 
means incredible that it might be so, if the light of nature and 
of revelation be from the same hand. Men are naturally Hable 
to diseases ; for which God, in his good providence, has pro- 
vided natural remedies. y But remedies existing in nature 
have been unlmown to mankind for many ages ; are known 
but to few now ; probably many valuable ones are not kno^ra 
yet. Great has been, and is, the obscurity and difficulty, in 
the nature and application of them, Circumstances seem 
often to make them very improper, where the}- are absolutely 
necessary. It is after long labor and study, and many unsuc- 
cessful endeavours, that they are brought to be as useful as 
they are : after high contempt and absolute rejection of the 
most useful we have : and after disputes and doubts, which 
have seemed to be endless. The best remedies, too, when 
unskilfLilly, much more if dishonestly, applied, may produce 
new diseases : and, vith the lightest application, the success 
of them is often doubtful. In many cases, they are not at 
aU effectual ; where they are, it is often very slowh^ : and the 
application of them, and the necessaiy regimen accompany- 
ing it, is, not u.ncommonly, so disagreeable, that some will 
not submit to them ; and satisfy themselves with the excuse, 
that if they would, it is not certain whether it would be suc- 
cessful. And many persons, who labor under diseases, for 
which there are known natural remedies, are not so happy as 
to be alwaj's, if ever, in the wajr of them. In a word, the 
remedies which nature has provided for diseases, are neither 
certain, perfect, nor universal. And indeed the same pmici- 
ples of arguing, which would lead us to conclude that they 
must be so, would lead us likevase to conclude that there could 
be no occasion for them ; i. e. that there could be no diseases 
at all. And, therefore, our experience that there are diseases, 
shows, that it is crechble beforehand, upon supposition nature 



* Chap. 6. t See Chap, 5. 



246 



THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATIOX [PaRT II. 



has provided remedies for them, that these remedies may be, 
as by experience we find the}- are, not certain, nor perfect, nor 
universal ; because it shows, that the principles upon which 
we should expect the contrarj^, are fallacious. 

And now, what is the jnst consequence from all these 
things '? Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to us as 
being of divine revelation. For this would be to mfer, that we 
are unable to judge of any thing, because we are unable to 
judge of all things. Reason can, and it ought to judge, 
not only of the meaning, but also of the morahty and the 
e^ddence, of revelation. Firstj It is the province of rea- 
son to judge of the morality of the Scripture ; i. e. not whe- 
ther it contains things different from what we should have 
expected from a vvdse, just and good Bemg ; for objections 
from hence have been now ob\iated ; but whether it contains 
things plainly contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness : to 
w^hat the light of nature teaches us of God. And I Imow no- 
thing of this sort objected against Scripture, excepting such ob- 
jections as are formed upon suppositions, which would equally 
conclude, that the constitution of nature is contradictory to 
wisdom, justice, or goodness ; which most certainly it is not. 
Indeed, there are some particular precepts in Scripture, given 
to particular persons, requiiing actions, v/hich would be im- 
moral and \'icious, were it not for such precepts. But it is 
easy to see, that all these are of such a kind, as that the pre- 
cept changes the whole nature of the case and of the ac- 
tion ; and both constitutes and shows tttat not to be unjust or 
immoral, which, prior to the precept, must have appeared and 
really have been so : which may well be, suice none of these 
precepts are contrary to immutable morality. If it were com- 
manded, to cultivate the principles, and act from the spirit of 
treachery, ingratitude, cruelty ; the command would not alter 
the nature of the case, or of the action in any of these instan- 
ces. But it is quite otherwise in precepts which require only 
the domg an external action ; for instance, taking away the 
proper tj^ or life of an3^ For men have no right to either life 
or property, but what arises solely fi'orn the grant of God. 
When this grant is revoked, the}' cease to have any rights at 
all in either : and when this revocation is made kno^^m, as 
surely it is possible it may be. it must cease to be unjust to 
deprive them of either. And though a course of external 
acts, which without command v/ould be immoral, must make 
an immoral habit, yet a few detached commands-have no such 



CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 



247 



natural tendency. I thought proper to say thu.s much of the 
few Scripture precepts, which requhe, not vicious actions, 
but actions which would have been \icious, had it not been 
for such precepts ; because the}^ are sometimes weakly urged 
as immoral, and great weight is laid upon objections drawn 
from them. But to me there seems no difficulty at all in 
these precepts, but what arises from their being offences ; 
i. e, from theh being hable to be perverted, as indeed they 
are, by wicked designing men, to ser^'e the most horrid pur- 
poses, and perhaps, to mislead the weak and enthusiastic. And 
objections from this head are not objections agaiiist revela- 
tion, but against the vrhole notion of religion, as a trial ; and 
against the general constitution of nature. Secondly. Rea- 
son is able to judge, and must, of the evidence of revelation, 
and of the objections urged against that evidence : which 
shall be the subject of a following chap*jr.^ 

But the consequence of the foregoing observations is, that 
the question upon which tlie truth of Christianity depends, is 
scarce at all, what objections there are against its scheme, 
since there are none against the moraiitj' of it : but ichat ob- 
jections there are against its evi-dence : or. tuhat proof there 
remains of it. after due alloicances raade for the objections 
against that proof Because it has been shov>'n, that the 06- 
jections against Christianitij, as distinguished from objections 
against its evidence, are frivolous. For surely very little 
weight, if any at all. is to be laid upon a Vv'ay of arguing and 
objecting, which, when applied to the general constitution of 
natm-e, experience shows nottobe conclusive: and such, I think, 
is the whole way of objecting treated of throughout this chap- 
ter. It is resolvable into principles; and goes upon suppositions, 
which mislead us to think, that the Author of nature would 
not act, as we experience he does ; or would act, m such and 
such cases, as we experience he does not in like cases. But 
the unreasonableness of this waj- of objecting will appear 
yet more evidently from hence, that the chief things thus ob- 
jected against, are justified, as shall be farther sho\\'n,t by 
distinct, particular, and full analogies, in the constitution and 
course of nature. 

But it is to be remembered, that as frivolous as objections 
of the foregoing sort against revelation are, yet, when a sup- 
posed revelation is more consistent ^\ith itself, and has a 



Chap. 7. 



t Chap, 4. latter part; and 5,6. 



248 THE CREDIBILITY OP REVELATION, &C. [PART IL 

more general and uniform tendency to promote \irtue, than, 
all circumstances considered, could have been expected from 
enthusiam and political views ; this is a presumptive proof of 
its not proceeding from them, and so of its truth ; because 
we are competent judges, what might have been expected 
from enthusiasm and political views. 



CHAP. IV.] 



CHRISTIANITY AS A SCHEME, &C. 



249 



CHAPTER IV. 

Of Christianity J considered as a Scheme or Constitution^ 

imperfectly comprehended. 

It hath been now shown,* that the analogy of nature ren- 
ders it highly credible beforehand, that, supposing a revelation 
to be made, it must contain many things very different from 
what we should have expected, and such as appear open to 
great objections ; and that this observation, in good measure, 
takes off the force of those objections, or rather precludes them. 
But it may be alleged, that this is a very partial answer to 
such objections, or a very imsatisfactory way of ob\iating 
them : because it doth not show at all, that the things object- 
ed against can be wise, just, and good ; much less, that it 
is credible they are so. It will therefore be proper to show 
this distinctly, by applying to these objections against the wis- 
dom, justice, and goodness of Christianity, the answer abovey 
given to the like objections against the constitution of nature ; 
before we consider the particular analogies in the latter, to the 
particular things objected against in the former. Now, that 
which affords a sufficient answer to objections against the 
wisdom, justice, and goodness of the constitution of nature, 
is its being a constitution, a system or scheme, imperfectly 
comprehended ; a scheme, in which means are made use of 
to accomplish ends ; and which is carried on by general laws. 
For, from these things it has been proved, not only to be pos- 
sible, but also to be credible, that those things which are ob- 
jected against, may be consistent with wisdom, justice, and 
goodness ; nay, may be instances of them : and even that 
the constitution and government of nature may be perfect in 
the highest possible degree. If Christianity, then, be a scheme, 
and of the like kind, it is evident, the like objections against 
it must admit of the like answer. And, 

* In the foregoing Chapter. 

t Part i. Chap, 7, to which this all along refers. 



250 



CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME 



[PAKT 



1. Christianity is a scIiernGj quite beyond our compreh eli- 
sion. The moral government of God is exercised, by gradu- 
ally conducting things so in the course of his providence, that 
every one, at length, and upon the whole, shall receive accord- 
ing to his deserts ; and neither fraud nor violence, but truth 
and right, shall finally prevail. Christianity is a particular 
scheme under this general plan of providence, and a part of it, 
conducive to its completion, with regard to mankind ; consist- 
ing itself also of various parts, and a mysterious economy 
which has been carrying on from the time the world came 
into its present wretched state, and is still carrying on, for its 
recovery, by a divine person, the Messiah ; ' who is to gather 
together in on*^; the children of God that are scattered abroad,'* 
and establish ' an everlasting kingdom, v/herein dwelleth 
righteousness.'l And in order to it, after various manifesta- 
tions of things, relating to this great and general scheme of 
Providence, through a succession of many ages ; — for the 
Spirit of Christ, which was in the prophets, testified before- 
hand his sufferings, and the glory that should follow : unto 
whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us, 
they did minister the things which are now reported unto us by 
them that have preached the gospel ; which things the angels 
desire to look into:'J) — after various dispensations, looking 
forward and preparatory to this final salvation, ^ In the fulness 
of time,' when infinite wisdom thought fit, He, ^ being in the 
form Of God, made himself of no reputation, and took upon 
himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness 
of men ; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled 
himself, and became obedient to death, even the death of the 
cross : wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and 
given him a name which is above every name ; that at the 
name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, 
and things in the earth, and things under the earth ; and that 
every tongue should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the 
glory of God the^Father.'§ Parts likew^ise of this economj', 
are the miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and his ordi- 
nary assistances given to good men ; the invisible government 
which Christ at present exercises over his Church ; that which 
he himself refers to in these words, || ^In my father's house 
are many mansions — I go to prepare a place for you and 
his future return to 'judge the world in righteousness,' ard 



* John xi. 52. 
t 1 Pet. 1. 11, 12. 
y John xiv. 2, 



t 2 Pet. iii. 13- 
§ Phil H. 



CHAP. IV.] IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 



251 



completely re-establish the idngdom of God, ' For the Fa- 
ther judgeth no man ; but hath committed all judgment unto 
the Son : that all men should honour the Son, even as they 
honour the Father.^ All power is given unto him in heaven 
and in earth.| And he must reign, till he hath put all ene- 
mies under his feet. Then cometh the end, when he shall 
have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father ; 
•^^hen he shall have put down all rule, and all authority and 
power. And when all things shall be subdued unto him, 
then shall the Son also himself be subject unto him that put 
all things under him, that God may be all in all.'J Now 
little, surel}-, need be said to show, that this system, or scheme 
of things, is but imperfectly comprehended by us. The 
Scripture expressly asserts it to be so. And, indeed, one 
cannot read a passage relating to this ' great mystery of 
godHness,'§ but what immediately runs up into something 
which shows us our ignorance in it ; as every thing in nature 
shows us our ignorance in the constitution of nature. And 
whoever wall seriously consider that part of the Christian 
scheme wliich is revealed in Scripture, will find so much 
more unrevealed, as will convince him, that, to all the purpo- 
ses of judging and objecting, we know as little of it, as of the 
constitution of nature. Our ignorance, therefore, is as much 
an answer to our objections against the perfection of one, as 
against the perfection of the other. || 

II. It is obvious, too, that in the Christian dispensation, as 
much as in the natural scheme of things, means are made use 
of to accomplish ends. And the observation of this furnishes 
us with the same ansvv'ers to objections against the perfection 
of Christianity, as to objections of the like kind against the con- 
stitution of nature. It shows the credibility, that the things 
objected against, how foolish^ soever they appear to men, 
may be the very best means of accomplishing the very best 
ends. And their appearing foolishness is no presumption 
against this, in a scheme so greatly beyond our comprehen- 
sion.** 

III. The credibility, that the Christian dispensation may 
have been, all along, carried on by general laws,tt less than 
the course of nature, may require to be more distinctly made 
out. Consider, then, upon what ground it is we say, that the 

* John V. 22, 23. f Matt, xxviii. 18. J 1 Ccr. xv. 
§ 1 Tim. iii. 16. !| Page 142, &c. H I Cor. i. 18, &c 

*+ Page 145. ' tf Pa^es 146, 147 " 



352 



CHRISTIANITY AS A SCHEME [PART II, 



whole common com^se of nature is earned on according to gen- 
eral fore-ordained laws. We know, indeed, several of the gen- 
eral laws of matter; and a great part of the natural behaviour 
of living agents is reducible to general laws. But we know, in 
a manner, nothing, by what laws, storms, and tempests, earth- 
I quakes, famine, pestilence, become the instruments of destruc- 

tion to mankind. And the laws by which persons born into 
the world at such a time and place, are of such capacities, ge- 
niuses, tempers ; the laws, by which thoughts come into our 
mind, in a multitude of cases ; and by which innumerable 
things happen, of the greatest influence upon the affairs and 
state of the world : these laws are so wholly unknown to us, 
that we call the events, which come to pass by them, acci 
dental ; though all reasonable men know certainly, that there 
cannot, in reality, be any such thing as chance ; and conclude, 
diat the things which have tliis appearance, are the result of 
general laws, and may be reduced into them. It is then but 
an exceeding little way. and in but a very few respects, that 
we can trace up the natural course of things before us, to 
general laws. And it is only from analogy that we conclude 
the whole of it to be capable of being reduced into them ; 
only from our seeing, that part is so. It is from our finding, 
that the course of nature, in some respects and so far, goes on 
by general laws, that we conclude this of the rest. And if 
that be a just ground for such a conclusion, it is a just ground 
also, if not to conclude, yet to comprehend, to render it suppos- 
able and credible, which is sufficient for answering objections, 
that God's miraculous interpositions may have been, all along, 
in like manner, by general laws of wisdom. Thus, that mira- 
culous powers should be exerted at such times, upon such 
occasions, in such degi^es and manners, and with regard to 
such persons, rather than others ; that the affairs of the 
world, being permitted to go on in their natural course so far, 
should, just at such a point, have a new direction given them 
by miraculous interpositions ; that these interpositions should 
be exactly in such degrees and respects only : all this may 
have been by general laws. These laws are unknown, 
indeed, to us ; but no more unknown, than the laws from 
whence it is, that some die as soon as they are born, and 
others live to extreme old age ; that one man is so superior to 
another in understanding ; with innumerable more things, 
which, as was before observed, we cannot reduce to any laws 
or rules at all, though it is taken for granted, they are as 
much reducible to general ones as gravitation. Now, if the 



CHAP. IV.J IMPERFECTLY C03IPREHENDED. 



253 



revealed dispensations of Providence, and miraculous interpo- 
sitions, be by general laws, as well as God's ordinary govern- 
ment in the course of nature, made known by reason and 
experience ; there is no more reason to expect that every exi- 
gence, as it arises, should be provided for by these general 
laws of miraculous interposition, than that every exigence in 
nature should, by the general laws of nature : yet there might 
be wise and good reasons, that miraculous interpositions should 
be by general laws ; and that these laws should not be broken 
in upon, or deviated from, by other miracles. 

Upon the whole, then, the appearances of deficiencies and 
irregularities in nature, is owing to its being a scheme but in 
part made known and of such a certain particular kind in 
other respects. Now we see no more reason, Avhy the frame 
and course of nature should be such a scheme, than why 
Christianity shoidd. And that the former is such a scheme, 
renders it credible, that the latter, upon supposition of its 
truth, may be so too. And as it is manifest, that Christianity 
is a scheme revealed but in part, and a scheme in which 
means are made use of to accompKsh ends, like to that of 
nature ; so the credibility that it may have been all along 
carried on by general laws no less than the course of nature, 
has been distinctly proved. And from all this it is beforehand 
credible, that there might, I think probable that there would, 
be the like appearance of deliciencies and irregularities in 
Christianity as in nature ; i, e. that Christianity would be 
liable to the like objections, as the frame of nature. And 
these objections are answered by these observations concern- 
ing Christianity ; as the like objections against the frame of 
nature, are answered by the like observations concerning the 
frame of nature. 



The objections against Christianity, considered as a matter 
of fact,"^ ha\dng, in general, been obviated in the preceding 
chapter : and the same, considered as made against the \vis- 
dom and goodness of it, ha\dng been obviated in this ; the 
next thing, according to the method proposed, is to show, that 
the principal objections in particular, against Christianity, 
may be answered by particular and full analogies in nature. 
And as one of them is made against the whole scheme of it 



354 



CHRISTIANITY AS A SCHEME [PART 11, 



together, as just now described, I choose to consider it here, 
rather than in a distinct chapter by itself. The thing objected 
against tiiis scheme of the gospel is, ' That it seems to sup- 
pose God was reduced to the necessity of a long series of in- 
tricate means, in order to accomplish his ends, the recovery 
and salvation of the world ; in like sort as men, for want of 
understanding, or power, not being able to come at their ends 
directly, are forced to go round about ways, and make use of 
many perplexed contrivances to arrive at them.' Now, every 
thing which we see shows the folly of this, considered as an 
objection against the truth of Christianity. For, according 
to our mamier of conception, God makes use of variety of 
means, what we often think tedious ones, m the natural 
course of providence, for the accomphshment of all his ends. 
Indeed, it is certain, there is somewhat m this matter quite 
bej'Ond our comprehension ; but the rnj'stery is as great in 
nature as in Christianity. We know what we ourselves aim 
at, as final ends ; and what courses we take, merely as means 
conducing to those ends. But we are greatly ignorant, how 
far things are considered by the Author of nature, under the 
single notion of means and ends ; so as that it may be said, 
this is merely an end, and that merely means, in his regard. 
And whether there be not some peculiar absurdity in our very 
manner of conception concerning this matter, somewhat con- 
tradictory, arising from our extremely imperfect views of 
things, it is impossible to say. However, thus much is mani- 
fest, that the whole natm'al w^orld and government of it is a 
scheme, or system ; not a fixed, but a progressive one : a 
scheme, in wliich the operation of various means takes up a 
great length of time, before the ends the}' tend to can be at- 
tained. The change of seasons, the ripening of the fruits of 
the earth, the very historj^ of a flower, is an mstance of this ; 
and so is human life. Thus, vegetable bodies, and those of 
animals, though possibly formed at once, yet grow up by de- 
grees to a mature state. And thus rational agents, who 
animate these latter bodies, are naturally directed to fonn, 
each his own manners and character, by the gradual gaining 
of knowledge and experience, and by a long course of action. 
Oiu' existence is not onlj' successive, as it must be of necessity, 
but one state of our life and being is appointed by God to be 
a preparation for another ; and that, to be the means of at- 
taining to another succeeding one : Infancy to childhood j 
childhood to youth ; j^outh to mature age. Men are impa- 
tient, and for precipitating things : but the Author of nature 



CHAP. JV,] IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 



255 



appears deliberate throughout his operations ; accomplishing 
his natural ends by slow successive steps. And there is a 
plan of things beforehand laid out, which, from the nature of 
it, requires various systems of means, as well as length of 
time, in order to the carrying on its several parts into execu- 
tion. Thus, in the daily course of natural providence, God 
operates in the very same manner as in the dispensation of 
Christianity : making one thing subservient to another ; this, 
to somewhat farther ; and so on, through a progressive series 
of means, which extend, both backward and forward, bej^ond 
our utmost \dew. Of this manner of operation, every thing 
we see in the course of nature is as much an instance, as any 
part of the Christian dispensation. 



250 



THE APPOINTMENT OP 



[part IL 



CHAPTER V. 



Of the 'particular System of Christianity ; the Appointment 
of a Mediator^ ai\d the Redemption of the World by him. 

There is not, I think, any thing relating to Christianity, 
which has been more objected against, than the mediation of 
Christ, in son?ie or other of its parts. Yet, upon thorough 
consideration, there seems nothing less justly liable to it. 
For, 

I. The whole analogy of nature removes all imagined pre- 
sumption against the general notion of ' a Mediator between 
God and man.'* For we find, all living creatures are brought 
into the world, and their life in infancy is preserved, by the 
instrumentality of others ; and every satisfaction of it, some 
way or other, is bestowed by the like means. So that the 
visible government, which God exercises over the world, is by 
the instrumentality and mediation of others. And how far 
his invisible government be or be not so, it is impossible to 
determine at all by reason. And the supposition, that part 
of it is so, appears, to say the least, altogether as credible as 
the contrary. There is then no sort of objection, from the 
light of nature, against the general notion of a mediator be- 
tween God and man, considered as a doctrine of Christianity, 
or as an appointment in this dispensation ; since we find, by 
experience, that God does appoint mediators, to be the instru- 
ments of good and evil to us, the instruments of his justice 
and his mercy. And the objection here referred to is urged, 
not against mediation in that high, eminent, and peculiar 
sense, in which Christ is our mediator ; but absolutely against 
the whole notion itself of a mediator at all. 

II. As we must suppose, that the world is under the 



* 1 Tim. ii. 5. 



CUAP. V.J A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER, 



257 



proper moral government of God, or in a state of religion, be- 
fore we can enter into consideration of tiie revealed doctrine 
concerning the redemption of it hy Christ ; so that supposi- 
tion is here to be distinctly taken notice of. Now, the divine 
moral government which religion teaches us, implies, that the 
consequence of vice shall be miserj^, in some future state, by 
the righteous judgment of God. That such consequent pun- 
ishment shall take effect by his appointment, is necessaiily 
implied. But, as it is not in any sort to be supposed, that we 
are made acquainted with all the ends or reasons for which 
it is fit futm-e punishment should be inflicted, or why God 
has appointed such and such consequent misery should fol- 
low vice ; and as we are altogether in the dark, how or in 
what manner it shall follow, by what immediate occasions, 
or by the instrumentahty of what means ; there is no ab- 
surdity in supposing, it may follow in a way analogous to 
that in which many miseries follow such and such courses 
of action at present ; poverty, sickness, infamy, mitimely 
death by diseases, death from the hands ^of civil justice. 
There is no absurdity in supposing future punishment ma,y 
follow wickedness of course, as we speak, or in the way of 
natural consequences, from God's original constitution of the 
world ; from the nature he has given us, and from the condi- 
tion in which he places us : or, in like manner, as a person 
rashly trifling upon a precipice, in the way of natural conse- 
quence, falls doAvn : in the way of natural consequence, breaks 
his limbs, suppose : in the way of natural consequence of this, 
without help, perishes. 

Some good men maj^, perhaps, be offended, \\4th heaiing 
it spoken of as a supposable thing, that the future punish- 
ments of wickedness may be m the way of natural conse- 
quence ; as if this were taking the execution of justice out of 
the hands of God, and giving it to nature. But they should 
remember that when things come to pass according to the 
course of nature, this does not hinder them fi'orn being Ms 
doing, who is the God of nature ; and that the Scripture as- 
cribes those punishments to divine justice, which are known 
to be natural ; and which must be called so, when distin- 
guished from such as are miraculous. But, after all, this 
supposition, or rather this way of speaking, is here made use 
of only by way of illustration of the subject before us. For, 
since it must be admitted, that the future punishment of 
wickedness is not a matter of arbitrar}^ appointment, but of 
.reason, equity, and justice ; it comes, for aught I see, to the 



35S 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



[fart II. 



same thing, whether it is supposed to be inflicted in a way 
analogous to that in which the temporal punishments of vice 
and folly are inflicted, or in any other way. And though 
there were a difFerence, it is allowable in the present case to 
make this supposition, plainly not an incredible one, That 
future punishment may follow wickedness in the way of 
natural consequence, or according to some general laws of 
government already established in the universe. 

in. Upon this supposition, or even without it, we may 
observe somewhat, much to the present purpose, in the con- 
stitution of nature, or appointments of Providence : the pro- 
vision which is made, that all the bad natural consequences 
of men's actions should not always actually follow ; or, that 
such bad- consequences, as, according to the settled course 
of things, would inevitably have followed, if not prevented, 
should, in certain degrees, be prevented. We are apt, pre- 
sum_ptuously, to imagine, that the world might have been so 
constituted, as that there would not have been any such thing 
as misery or evil. On the contrary, we find the Author of 
nature permits it. But then, he has provided reliefs, and, 
in many cases, perfect remedies for it, after some pains and 
difficulties ; reliefs and remedies even for that evil, which is 
the fruit of our own misconduct, and which, in the course of 
nature, would have continued, and ended in our destruction, 
but for such remedies. And this is an instance both of se- 
verity and of indulgence, in the constitution of nature. Thus, 
all the bad consequences, now mentioned, of a man's trifling 
upon a precipice, might be prevented. And, though all were 
not, yet some of them might, by proper interposition, if not 
rejected ; by another's coming to the rash man's relief, with 
his own laying hold on lhat relief, in such sort as the case 
requires. Persons may do a great deal themselves towards 
preventing the bad consequences of their follies ; and more 
may be done by themselves, together with the assistance of 
oth3rs, their fellow-creatures; which assistance nature re- 
quires and prompts us to. This is the general constitution of 
the world. Now, suppose it had been so constituted, that 
after such actions were done, as were foreseen naturally to 
draw after them misery to the doer, it should have been no 
more in human power to have prevented that naturally con- 
sequent misery, in any instance, than it is, in all ; no one can 
say, v/hether such a more severe constitution of things might 
not yet have been really good. But that, on the contrary, 
provision is ma^p. by nature, that we may and do, to so great 



CHAP, v.] 



A MEDIATOR AND REDEEr^IER. 



25 



degree, prevent the bad natural effects of otir folKes ; this 
may be called mercy, or compassion, in the original constitu- 
tion of tlie world ; compassion, as distinguished from good- 
ness in general. And, the whole known constitution and 
course of things* affording us instances of such compassion, 
it would be according to the analogy of nature to hope, that, 
however ruinous the natural consequences of vice might be, 
from the generpJ laws of God's government over the universe, 
yet pro^dsion might be made, possibly might have been 
originally made, for preventing those ruinous consequences 
from ine\itably following ; at least from following universally, 
and in all cases. 

Many, I am sensible, will wonder at finding tliis made a 
question, or spoken of as in any degree doubtful. The gene- 
rality of mankind are so far from haidng that awful sense of 
things, which the present state of vice and misery and dark- 
ness seems to make but reasonable, that they have scarce any 
apprehension, or thought at all, about this matter, any wa,y ; 
and some serious persons may have spoken miad^dsedl}' con- 
cerning it. But let us observe, what we experience to be, and 
what, from the very constitution of nature, cannot but be, the 
consequences of irregular and disorderly beha\dom' ; even of 
such rashness, wilfulness, neglects, as we scarce call vicious. 
Now, it is natural to apprehend, that the bad consequences of 
in-egularity will be greater, in proportion as the iiTegularity is 
so. And there is no comparison between these iiTegularities, 
and the greater instances of vice, or a dissolute profligate dis- 
regard to all religion ; if there be any thing at all m religion. 
For, consider what it is for creatures, moral agents, presump' 
tuously to introduce that confusion and misery into the king- 
dom of God, which manldndhave, in fact, introduced ; to blas- 
pheme the sovereign Lord of all ; to contemn his authority ; 
to be injurious to the degree they are, to their fellow-creatures, 
the creatures of God. Add, that the effects of \dce, in the pre- 
sent world, are often extreme misery, iiTetrievable ruin, and 
even death : and, upon putting all this together, it will appear, 
that as no one can say, in what degree fatal the unprevented 
consequences of vice may be, according to the general rule of 
di^vdne government ; so it is by no means intuitively certain, 
how far these consequences could possibly, in the natiu'e of the 
thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of right, 
or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of nature. 
However, there would be large ground to hope, that the uni- 
versal government was not so severely strict, but that there 



260 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



^PART Ii. 



was room for pardon, or for having those penal consequences 
prevented. Yet, 

lY. There seems no probability, that any thing we could 
do, would alone, and of itself, prevent them ; prevent their fol- 
lowing, or being inflicted. But one would think, at least, it 
were impossible that the contrary should be thought certain. 
For we are not acquainted with the whole of the case. We 
are not informed of all the reasons, which render it fit that 
future punishments should be inflicted ; and, therefore, camiot 
know, whether any thing we could do would make such an 
alteration, as to render it fit that they should be remitted. We 
do not know, what the whole natural or appointed consequen- 
ces of vice are, nor in what way they would foUoWj if not pre- 
vented ; and, therefore, can in no sort say, whether we could 
do any thing, which would be sufficient to prevent them. 
Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recollect the analogy 
of nature, or providence. For though this may be but a slight 
ground to raise a positive opinion upon in this matter, yet it is 
sufficient to answer a mere arbitrary assertion, without any 
kind of evidence, urged by way of objection against a doctrine, 
the proof of which is not reason, but revelation. Consider, 
then, people ruin their fortunes by extravagance ; they bring 
diseases upon themselves by excess ; they incur the penalties 
of civil laws, and surely civil government is natural : ^\'ill sor- 
row for these follies past, and 'behaving well for the future, 
alone and of itself, prevent the natural consequences of them 1 
On the contrary, men's natural abilities of helping themselves 
are often impaired ; or, if not, yet they are forced to be be- 
holden to the assistance of others, upon several accounts, and 
in different ways: assistance which they would have had no 
occasion for, had it not been for their misconduct ; but which, 
in the disadvantageous condition they have reduced them- 
selves to, is absolutely necessary to their recovery, and re- 
trieving their affairs. Now, since this is our case, consideiing 
ourselves merely as inhabitants of this world, and as having 
a temporal interest here, under the natural government of 
God, which, however, has a great deal moral in it ; why is 
it not supposable, that this may be our case also in our more 
important capacity, as under his perfect moral government, 
and having a more general and future interest depending ? If 
we have misbehaved in this higher capacity, and rendered 
ourselves obnoxious to the future punishment which God has 
annexed to vice ; it is plainly credible, that behaving well for 



CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



261 



the time to come, may be — not useless, God forbid — but 
wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to prevent that punish- 
meat ; or to put us in the condition which we should have 
been in, had we preserved our innocence. 

And though we ought to reason with all reverence, when- 
ever we reason concerning the divine conduct, yet it may bo 
added, that it is clearly contrary to all our notions of govern- 
ment, as well as to what is, in fact, the general constitution 
of nature, to suppose that doing well for the future, should 
in all cases, prevent all the judicial bad consequences of hav- 
ing done evil, or all the punishment annexed to disobedience. 
And we have manifestly nothing from whence to determine, 
in what degree, and in what cases, reformation would pre- 
vent this punishment, even supposing that it would in som.e. 
And, though the efficacy of repentance itself alone, to pre- 
vent what mankind had rendered themselves obnoxious to, 
and recover what thej^ had forfeited, is now insisted upon, in 
opposition to Christianity ; yet, by the general prevalence of 
propitiatory sacrifices over the heathen world, this notion, of 
repentance alone being sufficient to expiate guilt, appears to 
be contrary to the general sense of mankind. 

Upon the whole, then, had the laws, the general laws of 
God's government, been permitted to operate, without any 
interposition in our behalf, the future punishment, for aught 
we know to the contrary, or have any reason to think, must 
inevitably have followed, notwithstanding any thing we could 
have done to prevent it. Now, 

V. In this darkness, or this light of nature, call it which you 
please, revelation comes in ; confirms etery doubting fear, v/hich 
could enter into the heart of man, concerning the future un- 
prevented consequence of wickedness ; supposes the world 
to be in a state of ruin, (a supposition which seems the very 
ground of the Christian dispensation, and which, if notproveable 
b}'' reason, yet it is in no ^vise contrary to it ;) teaches us, too, 
that the rules of divine government are such, as not to admit of 
pardon immediately and directly upon repentance, or by the 
sole efficacy of it ; but then teaches, at the same time, what 
nature might justly have hoped, that the moral government of 
the universe was not so rigid, but that there was room for an 
interposition to avert the fatal consequences of vice ; which 
therefore, by this means, does admit of pardon. Revelation 
teaches us, that the unknown laws of God's more general 
government, no less than the particular laws by which we 



262 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



[part II* 



experierce he governs us at present, are compassionate,* as 
well as good, in the more general notion of goodness ; and 
that he hath mercifully provided, that there should be an 
interposition to prevent the destruction of human kind, what- 
ever that destruction unprevented would have been. ' God so 
loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth,' not, to be sure, in a speculative, but in 
a practical sense, ' that whosoever believeth in him should not 
peristi ; ' | gave his son in the same way of goodness to the 
woi Id, as he alFords particular persons the friendly assistance 
of their fellow-creatures, when, without it, their temporal ruin 
would be the certain consequence of their follies ; in the 
same way of goodness, I say, though in a transcendent and 
ill finitely higher degree. And the Son of God ' loved us, and 
gave himself for us,' with a love which he himself compares 
to that of human friendship ; though, in this case, all com- 
parisons must fall infinitely short of the thing intended to 
be illustrated by them. He interposed in such a manner, as 
was necessary and effectual to prevent that execution of jus- 
tice upon sinners, which God had appointed should otherwise 
have been executed upon them ; or in such a manner, as 
to prevent that punishment from actually following, which, 
according to the general laws of divine government, must 
have followed the sins of the world, had it not been for such 
interposition. J 

If any thing here said should appear, upon first thought, 
inconsistent with divine goodness, a second, I am persuaded, 

* Page 204, &c. f ^ohn iii. 1 6. 

J It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even by the most cursory reader, 
that it is, in any sort, affirmed, or implied, in any thing said in this chap- 
ter, that none can have the benefit of the general redemption, but such 
as have the advantage of being made acquainted with it in the present 
life. — But, it may be needful to mention, that several questions, which 
have been brought into the subject before us, and determined, are not in 
the least entered into here ; questions v/hich have been, I fear, rashly 
determined, and, perhaps, with equal rashness, contrary ways. For in- 
stance : Whether God could have saved the world by other means than 
the death of Christ, consistently with the general laws of his government ? 
And, had not Christ came into the world, what would have been the 
future condition of the better sort of men ; those just persons over the 
face of the earth, for whom Manasses in his prayer asserts, repentance 
was not appointed ? The meaning of the first of these questions is 
greatly ambiguous ; and neither of them can properly be answered, 
■without going upon that infinitely absurd supposition, that we know 
the whole of the case. And, perhaps, the very inquiry, tohat would have 
followed if God had not doners he has ? may have in it some very great 
impropriety ; and ought not to be carried on any farther than is neces- 
sary to help our partial and inadequate conceptions of things. 



CHIP, v.] 



A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



263 



will entirely remove that appearance. For, were we to snp- 
pose the constitution of things to be such, as that the whole 
creation must have perished, had it not been for soir.ewhat, 
which God had appointed should be in order to prevent that 
ruin ; even this supposition would not be inconsistent, in any de- 
gree, with the most absolutely perfect goodness. But still it may 
be thought, that this whole manner of treating the subject I e- 
fore us, supposes mankind to be naturally in a very strange 
state. And truly so it does. But it is not Christianity which 
has put us into this state. Whoever will consider the manifold 
miseries, and the extreme wickedness of the world ; that the 
best have great wrongnesses with themselves, which they 
com.plain of, and endeavour to amend ; but, that the gene- 
rality grow more profligate and corrupt with age : that hea- 
then moralists thought the present state to be a state of punish- 
ment; and, what might be added, that the earth, our habitation, 
has the appearance of being a ruin : whoever, I say, will con- 
sider all these, and some other obvious things, will think he 
has little reason to object against the Scripture account, that 
mankind is in a state of degradation ; against this being the 
fact : how difficult soever he may think it to account for, 
or even to form a distinct conception of, the occasions an: i cir- 
cumstances of it. But that the crime of our first parents was 
the occasion of our being placed in a more disadvantageous 
condition, is a thing throughout, and particularlj^ analogcus 
to what we see, in the daily course of natural Providence ; as 
the recovery of the world, by the interposition of Christ, has 
been shown to be so in general. 

VI. The particular manner in which Christ interposed in the 
redemption of the world, or his office as Mediator, in the 
largest sense, between God and man^ is thus represented to 
us in the Scripture : ^ He is the light of the world the re- 
vealer of the will of God in the most eminent sense : He is a 
propitiatory sacrifice ;| ' the Lamb of God ;'J and as he vo- 
luntarily offered himself up, he is styled our High-Priest. § 
And, which seems of peculiar weight, he is described before, 
hand in the Old Testament, under the same characters of a 
priest, and expiatory -^dctim.H And whereas it is objected, 

* John i. and viii. 12. 

tRom. iii. 25, and v. 11. ICor. v. 7. Eph. v. 2. IJohn ii % 
Matt. xxvi. 28. 
X John i. 29, 36, and throughout the book of Revelation. 
§ Throughout the Epistle to the Hebrews. 
Ii Isa. liii. Dan. ix. 24. Psahn ex. 4. 



264 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



[part II 



that all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices of 
the Mosaic law, the apostle, on the contrary, affirms, that the 
* law was a shadow of good things to come, and not the very 
image of the things and that the piiests that offer gifts 
according to the law — serve unto the example and shadow 
of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished of God, when 
he was about to make the tabernacle. ' For see,' saitii he, 
' that thou make all things according to the pattern showed 
to thee in the mount ;'| i. e. the Levitical priesthood was a 
shadow of the priesthood of Christ, in like manner as the ta- 
bernacle made hy Moses was according to that showed him 
in the Mount. The priesthood of Christ and the tabeniacle 
in the Mount, were the originals : of the former of which, the 
Le\dtical priesthood was a type ; and of the latter, the taber- 
nacle made by Moses was a copy. The doctrine of this 
epistle, then, plainly is, that the le-gal saciifices were allusions 
to the great and final atonement to be made by the blood of 
Christ ; and not that this was an allusion to those. Nor can 
any thing be more express and determinate, than the follow- 
ing passage : ' It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of 
goats should take away sin. Wherefore, when he cometh 
into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering,' i. e. of bulls 
and of goats, ' thou wouldst not, but a body hast thou pre- 
pared me — Lo, I come to do thy will, O God. — By which 
will we are sanctified, through the offering of the body of 
Jesus Christ once for all.'J And to add one passage more 
of the like kind : ^ Christ was once offered to bear the sins of 
many ; and unto them that look for him shall he appear the 
second time, without sin i. e. without bearing sin, as he did 
at his first coming, by being an offering for it ; without 
having our iniquities again laid upon him^ without being any 
more a sin-offering ; — ' Unto them that look for him shall he 
appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation. '§ Nor 
do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to this man 
ner of speaking concerning the satisfaction of Christ, but de- 
clare an efficacy in what he did and suffered for us, additional 
to, and beyond mere instruction, example, and government, 
in a great variety of expression : ' That Jesus should die for 
that nation,' the Jews ; ' and not for that nation only, but that 
also,' plainly by the efficacy of his death, * he should gather 
together in one the children of God that were scattered 



* Heb. X. 1. t Heb. viii. 4, 5. t Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10. 
§ Heb. ix. 28. 



CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



265 



abroad that ' he suffered for sins, the just for the unjust :'f 
that ' he gave his life, himself, a ransom J that ' we are 
bought, bought with a price :'§ that ' he redeemed us with 
his blood; redeemed us from the curse of the law, being 
made a curse for us :'|| that he is our ' advocate, intercessor, 
and propitiation :' IT that 'he was made perfect (or consum- 
mate) through sufferings ; and being thus made perfect, he 
became the author of salvation i'*"^ that ' God was in Christ, 
reconciling the world to himself, by the death of his Son by 
the cross ; not imputing their trespasses unto them and, 
lastly, that 'through death he destroyed him that had the 
power of death.'JJ Christ, then, having thus 'humbled 
himself, and become obedient to death, even the death of the 
cross, God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a 
name which is above every name ; hath given all things into 
his hands ; hath committed all judgment unto him ; that all 
men should honor the Son, even as they honor the Father.'§§ 
For, ' worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, 
and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, 
and blessing ! And every creature which is in heaven, and 
on the earth, heard I, saying, Blessing, and honor, and glory, 
and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and 
unto the Lamb, for ever and ever !'|]|| 

These passages . of Scripture seem to comprehend and ex 
press the chief parts of Christ's office, as mediator between 
God and man ; so far, I mean, as the nature of this his office 
is revealed: and it is usually treated of by divines under 
three heads. 

First, He was, by the way of eminence, the Prophet : * that 
Prophet that should come into the worldj'TTIT to declare the di- 
vine will. He published anew the law of nature, which men ' 
had corrupted ; and the very knowledge of which, to some 
degree, was lost among them. He taught mankind, taught 
us authoritatively, to ' live soberly, righteously and godly in 

♦ John xi, 51 , 52. t 1 Pet. iii. 18. 

t Matt. XX. 28. Mark x. 45. 1 Tim. ii. 6. * 

$ 2 PeL ii. I. Rev. xiv. 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20. 

I 1 Pet. i. 19. Rev. v. 9. Gal. iii. 13. 

IT Heb. vii. 25. 1 John ii. 1, 2. 

**Heb.ii. 10, and v. 9. 

tt 2 Cor. V. 19. Rom. v. 10. Eph. ii. 16. 

JJHeb. ii. 14. See also a remarkable passage in tlie book of Job^ 
xxxiii. 24. 

§§Phil. ii. 8, 9. John iii. 35, and v. 22, 23. 

nil Rev. V. 12, 13. HIT John vi. 14. 



266 



THE APFOINTMENT OF 



[part II 



this present world,' in expectation of the fatui'e judgment of 
God. He confii'med the truth of this moral system of nature, 
and gave us additional evidence of it i the evidence of testi- 
mony.* He distinctly revealed the manner in which God 
would be worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and the re- 
wards and punishments of a future life. Thus he was a pro- 
phet in a sense in which no other ever was. To which is to 
be added, that he set us a perfect ' example, that we should 
follow his steps.' 

Secondly^ He has a ' kingdom, which is not of this world.' 
He founded a church, to be to mankind a standing memorial 
of religion, and invitation to it ; which he promised to be with 
always, even to the end. He exercises an invisible govern- 
ment over it himself, and by his Spirit ; over that part of it 
which is militant here on earth, a government of discipline^ 
* for the perfecting of the saints, for the edifying his body ; till 
we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of 
the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the 
stature of the fulness of Christ.'! Of this church, all persons 
scattered over the world, who live in obedience to his laws, 
are members. For these he is ' gone to prepare a place, and 
will come again to receive them unto himself, that where he 
is, there they may be also ; and reign with him for ever and 
ever :'J and likewise ' to take vengeance on them that know 
not God, and obey not his gospel.' § 

Against these parts of Christ's office, I ffiid no objections 
but what are fully obviated in the beginning of this Chapter. 

Lastly^ Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice, and 
made atonement for the sins of the worid : which is mentioned 
last, in regard to what is objected against it. Sacrifices of ex- 
piation were commanded the Jews, and obtained amongst most 
other nations, fi'om tradition, whose original probably was reve- 
lation. And they were continually repeated, both occasion- 
ally and at the returns of stated times ; and made up great 
part of the external religion of mankind. ' But now once in 
the end of the world Christ appeared, to put away sin by the 
sacrifice of himself || And this sacrifice was in the highest 
degree, and with the most extensive influence, of that efficacy 
for obtaining pardon of sin, which the heathens may be sup- 
posed to have thought their sacrifices to have been, and which 

* Page 163, &c. f Eph. iv. 12, 13. 

I John XIV. 2, 3. Rev. iii. 21, and xi. 15. 
§2Thess.i.a ilHeb.ix.26^. 



CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



267 



the Jewish sacrifices really were in some degree, and with 
regard to some persons. 

How, and in what particular way, it had this efficacj^-, there 
are not wanting persons who have endeavoured to explain ; 
but I do not find that the Scripture has explained it. We 
seem to be very much in the dark concerning the manner in 
which the ancients understood atonement to be made, i. e. par- 
don to be obtained, by sacrifices. And if the Scripture has, 
as surely it has, left this matter of the satisfaction of Christ 
mysterious, left somewhat in it unrevealed, all conjectures 
about it must be, if not evidently absurd, yet at least uncer- 
tain. Nor ha« any one reason to complain for want of far- 
ther information, unless he can show his claim to it. 

Some have endeavoured to explain the efficacy of what 
Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what the Scrip- 
ture has authorized ; others, probably because they could not 
explain it, have been for taking it aw^ay, and confining his ofiice 
as Redeemer of the world, to his instruction, example, and go- 
vernment of the church ; whereas the doctrine of the gospel 
appears to be, not only that he taught the efficacy of repen- 
tance, but rendered it of the efficacy which it is, by what he 
did and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the benefit of 
ha\ing our repentance accepted unto eternal life : not only that 
he revealed to sinners, that they were in a capacity of salva- 
tion, and how they might obtain it ; but, moreover, that he put 
them into this capacity of salvation, by what he did and suf- 
fered for them ; put us into a capacity of escaping future pun- 
ishment, and obtaining future happiness. And it is our wis- 
dom thankfully to accept the benefit, by peiforming the con- 
ditions upon which it is offered, on our part, without disputing 
how it was procured on his. For, 

VII. Since we neither know by what means punishment 
in a future state would have followed wickedness in this ; noi' 
in what marmer it would have been infficted, had it not been 
prevented ; nor all the reasons why its infliction would have 
been needful ; nor the particular nature of that state of hap- 
piness which Christ has gone to prepare for his disciples ; 
and since we are ignorant how far any thing which we could 
do, would, alone and of itself, have been effectual to prevent 
that punishment to which we are obnoxious, and recover that 
happiness which w^e had forfeited ; it is most evident we are 
not judges, antecedently to revelation, whether a mediator 
was or was not necessary to obtain those ends ; to prevent 
that futuie punishment, and bring mankind to the final hap- 



368 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



[part II. 



piness of their nature. And for the very same reasons, upon 
supposition of the necessity of a mediator, we are no more 
judges, antecedently to revelation, of the whole natm'e of his 
office, or the several parts of wliich it consists ; of what was 
fit and requisite to be assigned him, in order to accomplish the 
ends of di^dne Providence in the appointment. And from 
hence it follows, that to object agamst the expediency or use- 
fulness of particular things revealed to have been done or 
suffered by liim, because we do not see how they were 
conducive to those ends, is highlj' absurd. Yet nothing is 
more common to be met ^\dth, than this absurdity. But if it 
be acknowledged beforehand, that w^e are not judges in the 
case, it is e^ddent that no objection can, w4th any shadow of 
reason, be urged against any particular part of Christ's medi- 
atorial office revealed in Scripture, till it can be shown posi- 
tively, not to be requisite, or conducive, to the ends proposed 
to be accomplished ; or that it is m itself unreasonable. 

And there is one objection made against the satisfaction of 
Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind ; that the doc- 
trine of his being appointed to suffer for the sins of the world, 
represents God as being indifferent whether he punished the 
innocent or the guilt3^ Now, from the foregoing observa- 
tions, we may see the extreme slightness of all such objec 
tions ; and, (though it is most certain all who make them do 
not see the consequence,) that they conclude altogether as 
much against God's whole original constitution of nature, 
and the whole dail}- course of di^dne Providence, in the go- 
vernment of the world, i. e. against the whole scheme of 
theism and the whole notion of religion, as against Christianity. 
For the world is a constitution, or sj^stem, whose parts have 
a mutual reference to each other; and there is a scheme of 
things gradually carrjdng on, called the course of nature, to 
the carrjdng on of which God has appointed us, in various 
ways, to contribute. And when, in the daily course of 
natm'al prondence, it is appointed that innocent people should 
suffer for the faults of the guilty, this is liable to the very 
same objection as the instance we are now considering. The 
Infinitely greater importance of that appointment of Chris^ 
tianity which is objected against, does not hinder but it may 
be, as it plainly is, an appointment of the very same kind 
with what the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, if 
there were any force at all in the objection, it would be 
stronger, in one respect, against natural •pro\ddence, than 
against Christianity ; because, under the former, we are in 



CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



269 



many cases commandedj and even necessitated, whether we 
will or nOj to suffer for the faults of others ; whereas the 
sufferings of Christ were voluntary. The world's being 
under the righteous government of God, does indeed imply, 
that finally, and upon the whole, every one shall receive ac- 
cording to his personal deserts ; and the general doctrine of 
the whole Scripture is, that this shall be the completion of 
the divine government. But, during the progress, and, for 
aught we know, even in order to the completion of this moral 
scheme, vicarious punishments may be fit, and absolutely 
necessary. Men, by their follies, run themselves into ex- 
treme distress ; into difficulties which would be absolutely 
fatal to them, were it not for the interposition and assistance 
of others. God commands by the law of nature, that we 
afford them this assistance, in many cases where we cannot 
do it without very great pains, and labour, and sufferings to 
ourselves. And we see in what variety of ways one person's 
suffeiings contribute to the relief of another ; and how, or by 
what particular means, this comes to pass, or follows, fi'om 
the constitution and laws of nature, which come imder our 
notice ; and being familiarized to it, men are not shocked 
with it. So that the reason of their msisting upon objections 
of the foregoing kind, against the satisfaction of Christ, is, 
either that they do not consider God's settled and uniform ap- 
pointment as his appointment at all, or else they forget that 
vicarious punishment is a providential appointment of every 
day's experience : and then, fi'om their being unacquainted 
with the more general laws of nature, or divine government 
over the world, and not seeing how the sufferings of Christ 
could contribute to the redemption of it, unless by arbitrary 
and tyrannical will, they conclude his sufferings could not 
contribute to it any other way. And yet, what has been 
often alleged in justification of this doctrine, even from the 
apparent natural tendency of this method of our redemption — 
its tendency to vindicate the authority of God's laws, and 
deter his -creatures from sin : this has never yet been an- 
swered, and is, I think, plainly unanswerable : though I am 
far from thinking it an account of the whole of the case. But 
without taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears, 
from the observations above made, that this objection is, not 
an objection against Christianity, but against the whole 
general constitution of nature. And if it were to be consid- 
ered as an objection against Christianity, or considering it as 
h is, an obiection a^rainst the constitution of nature, it amount^ 



270 



THE APPOINTMENT OF 



[part II, 



to no more in conclusion than this, that a divine appointment 
cannot be necessary, or expedient, because the objector does 
not discern it to be so ; though he must own that the nature 
of the case is such, as renders him incapable of judging whe- 
ther it be so or not ; or of seeing it to be necessary, though it 
were so. 

It is indeed a matter of great patience to reasonable men, 
to find people arguing in this manner ; objecting against the 
credibility of such particular things revealed in Scripture, that 
they do not see the necessity or expediency of them. For, 
though it is highly right, and the most pious exercise of our 
understanding, to inquire with due reverence into the ends 
and reasons of God's dispensations ; yet, when those reasons 
are concealed, to argue from our ignorance, that such dis- 
pensations cannot be from God, is infinitely absurd. The 
presumption of this kind of objections seems almost lost in 
the folly of them. And the folly of them is yet greater, when 
they are urged, as usually they are, against things in Chris- 
tianity analogous, or like to those natural dispensations of 
Providence, which are matter of experience. Let reason be 
kept to ; and, if any part of the Scripture account of the re- 
demption of the world by Christ can be shown to be really con- 
trary to it, let the Scripture, in the name of God, be given up : 
but let not such poor creatures as we, go on objecting against an 
infinite scheme, that we do not see the necessity or usefulness 
of aH its parts, and call this reasoning ; and, which still far- 
ther heightens the absurdity in the present case, parts which 
we are not actively concerned in. For, it may be worth men- 
tioning, 

Lastly J That not only the reason of the thing, but the whole 
analogy of nature, should teach us, not to expect to have the 
like information concerning the divine conduct, as concerning 
our own duty. God instructs us by experience, (for it is 
not reason, but experience, wliich instructs us,) what good 
or bad consequences will follow from our acting in such 
and such manners ; and by this he directs us how we are 
to behave ourselves. But, though we are sufficiently in- 
structed for the common purposes of life, yet it is but an 
ahnost infinitely' small part of natural pro\ddence which we 
are at all let into. The case is the same with regard to 
revelation. The doctrine of a mediator between God and 
man, against which it is objected, that the expediency of 
some things in it is not understood, relates only to what was 
done on God's part in the appointment, and on the Mediator's 



CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 



27J 



in the execution of it. For what is required of tis, in con- 
sequence of this gracious dispensation, is another subject, in 
which none can complain for w^ant of information. The con- 
stitution of the world, and God's natural government over it, 
is all mystery, as much as the Christian dispensation. Yet 
under the first, he has given men all things pertaining to life ; 
and under the other, all things pertaining unto godliness. And 
it may be added, that there is nothing hard to be accounted 
for in any of the common precepts of Christianity ; though, 
if there were, surely a divine comm.and is abundantly suf- 
ficient to lay us under the strongest obligations to obedience. 
But the fact is, that the reasons of all the Christian precepts 
are evident. Positive institutions are manifestly necessary to 
keep up and propagate religion amon gf X mankind. And our 
duty to Christ, the internal and external worship of him ; this 
part of the religion of the gospel manifestly arises out of what 
he has done and suffered, his authority and dominion, and 
the relation which he is revealed to stand in to us * 



♦ Pages 67, 68, 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL [PART U, 



CHAPTER VI. 



OJ the want of Universality in Revelation ; and of the sup' 

posed Deficiency in the Proof of it. 

It has been though, bj some persons, that if the e\ddence 
of revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns into a positive 
argument against it ; because it cannot be supposed, that, if 
it were true, it would be left to subsist upon doubtful evidence 
And the objection against revelation, from its not being uni- 
versal, is often insisted upon as of great weight. 

Now, the weakness of these opinions may be shown, by 
obser\TQg the suppositions on which they are founded, which 
are really such as these ; — that it camiot be thought God 
would have bestov/ed any favour at all upon us, unless in the 
degree which, we think, he might, and which, we imagine, 
would be most to oiu' particular advantage ; and also, that it 
cannot be thought he would bestow a favour upon any, unless 
he bestowed the same upon all : suppositions which we find 
contradicted, not by a few instances in God's natural govern- 
ment of the world, but by the general analogy of nature 
together. 

Persons who speak of the e^ddence of religion as doubtful, 
and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive argument 
against it, should be put upon considering, what that evidence 
indeed is, which they act upon with regard to their tempo- 
ral interests. For, it is not only extremely difficult, but, in 
many cases, absolutely impossible, to balance pleasure and 
pain, satisfaction and uneasiness, so as to be able to sav, on 
which side the overplus is. There are the like difficulties and 
impossibilities, in making the due allowances for a change of 
temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill health : any of which 
render men incapable of enjojdng, after they have obtained, 
what they most eagerly desired. Numberless, too, are the 
accidents, besides that one of untimely death, which maj'' 
even probably disappoint the best concertec"" schemes j and 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 



2?3 



strong objections are often seen to lie against them, not to be 
removed or answered, but which seem overbalanced by rea- 
sons on the other side ; so as that the certain difficulties and 
dangers of the pursuit are, bj every one, thought justly dis- 
regarded, upon account of there appearing greater advantages 
in case of success, though there be but little probability of it. 
Lastly^ Every one observes our liableness, if we be not upon 
our guard, to be deceived by the falsehood of men, and the false 
appearances of things ; and this danger must be greatly in- 
creased, if there be a strong bias within, suppose from indulged 
passion, to favour the deceit. Hence arises that great uncer- 
tainty and doubtfulness of proof, wherein our temporal inter- 
est really consists ; what are the most probable means of 
attaining it ; and whether those means will eventually be 
successful. And numberless instances there are, in the daily 
course of life, in which all men think it reasonable to engage 
in pursuits, though the probabilitj' is greatly against succeed- 
ing ; and to make such provision for themselves, as it is sup- 
posable thej^ ma}" have occasion for, though the plain acknow- 
ledged probability is, that they never shall. Then those who 
think the objection against revelation, from its light not being 
universal, to be of weight, should observe, that the Author of 
nature, in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, 
which he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in 
need of it. Indeed, he appears to bestow all his gifts with 
the most promiscuous varietj^, among creatures of the samie 
species : health and strength, capacities of prudence and of 
knowledge, means of improvement, riches, and all external ad- 
vantages. And as there are not an}' two men found of exactly 
like shape and features, so. it is probable, there are not any two 
of an exactly like constitution, temper, and situation, with re- 
gard to the goods and evils of life. Yet, notwithstanding 
these uncertainties and varieties, God does exercise a natural 
government over the world : and there is such a thing as a 
prudent and imprudent institution of life, with regard to ou/ 
health and our affairs, under that his natural government. 

As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have been 
universal, and as they have been afforded to a greater or lei^s 
part of the world, at different times, so, likewise, at different 
times, both revelations have had different degrees of evidence. 
The Jews who lived during the succession of prophets, that 
is, from Moses till after the Captivity, had higher evidence of 
the truth of their religion, than those had who lived in the 
interval between the last-mentioned period and the coming of 



■274 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART II. 



Christ. And the first Chiisiians had higher e^ddence of the 
miracles wrought iii attestation of Cliiistianity than what we 
have now. Thej had also a strong presumptive proof of the 
truth of it, perhaps of much greater force, in way of argu- 
ment, than many may think, of which we have very httle re- 
maining ; I mean, the presmnptive proof of its truth fi'om the 
influence which it had upon the Hves of the generality of its 
professors. And we, or future ages, may possibly have a proof 
of it, which they could not have, from the conformity between 
the prophetic liistory, and the state of the world, and of Chiis- 
tianity. And farther : If we were to suppose the evidence, 
which some have of religion, to amoimt to hitle more tliPdi 
seeing that it may be true, but that they remain in great doubts 
and uncertainties about both its e^-idence and its nature, and 
great pei-plexities concerning the rule of life; others to have 
a full comiction of the truth of religion, with a distinct knovr- 
ledge of their duty ; and others severally to ho.ve all the inter- 
mediate degrees of religious light and evidence, wliich lie be- 
tween these two. — If we put the case, that for the present it 
was intended revelation should be no more than a small light, 
in the midst of a world greatly overspread, notwithstanding it, 
with ignorance and darkness: that certain ghmmerings of 
this light should extend, and be dhected, to remote distances, 
in such a manner as that those who really partook of it 
should not discern from whence it originaUy came ; that 
some, in a nearer situation to it, should have its light ob- 
scured, and, in dilferent ways and degrees, intercepted : and 
that others should be placed Vv-ithin its clearer influence, and 
be much more enlivened, cheered, and directed by it ; but yet, 
that even to these it should be no more than ' a light shining 
in a dark place :' all this would be perfectly imiform and of a 
piece vTLih the conduct of Providence, in the distribution of its 
other blessings. If the fact of the case really were, that 
some have received no hght at all from the Scripture ; as 
many ages and countries m the heathen world : that others, 
though the}^ have, hy means of it, had essential or natural 
religion enforced upon their consciences, yet have never had 
the genuine Scripture revelation, with its real evidence, pro- 
posed to their consideration : and the ancient Persians and 
modem Mahometans may possibly be instances of people in a 
situation somewhat like to this : that others, though they 
have had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revela- 
tion, yet have had it ^4th the s^-stem and evidence of Claris • 
tianity so interpolated, the system so comipted. the evidence 



CUAP. VI.] SUPPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 



27.5 



SO blended with false miracles, as to leave the mind in the 
utmost doubtfulness and uncertaintj' about the whole ; which 
may be the state of some thoughtful men in most of those na- 
tions who call themselves Christian : and, lastly, that others 
have had Christianity offered to thern in its genuine simplicity, 
and with its proper evidence, as persons in countries and 
chmxhes of civil and of Christian liberty : but, however, that 
even these persons are left in great ignorance in many 
respects, and have by no means light afforded them enough 
to satisfy their curiositj^, but only to regulate their Hfe, to 
teach them their duty, and encourage them in the careful 
discharge of it : I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat 
of a general true account of the degrees of moral and reli- 
gious Kght and evidence, which were intended to be afforded 
mankind, and of what has actually been and is their situa- 
tion, in their moral and religious capacity, there would be 
nothing in all this ignorance, doubtfulness, and uncertainty, 
in all these varieties and supposed disadvantages of some in 
comparison of others, respecting religion, but mry be paralleled 
by manifest analogies in the natural dispensations of Pron- 
dence at present, and considering ourselves merely in our 
temporal capacit}'. 

Nor is there any thing shocking in all this, or which would 
seem to bear hard upon the moral administration in nature, if 
we would really keep in mind, that every one should be 
dealt equita.bh' with : instead of forgetting this, or explaii'iing 
it away, after it is acknowledged in words. All shadow of 
injustice, and indeed all harsh appearances, in this various 
economy of Providence, vrould be lost, if we would keep in 
mind, that every merciful allowance should be made, and no 
more be required of an\' one. ihan what might have been 
equitabh^ expected of him, from the circumstances in wliich 
he was placed ; and not what might have been expected, had 
he been placed in other circumstances : i. e. in Scnpture lan- 
guage, that every man shall be ■' accepted according to what 
he had, not according to what he had not.'^ This, however, 
doth not by any means imply, that all persons' condition here 
is equally advantageous with respect to futurity. And 
Providence's desiirning to place some in greater darkness 
%\dth respect to religious knowledge, is no more a reason vv'hy 
they should not endeavour to get out of that darkness, and 
Others to biing them out of it, than why ignorant and slow 



* 2 Cor. viii. 12, 



276 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL ! [PART lli 



people, in matters of other knowledge, should not endeavour 
to learn, or should not be instructed. 

It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise and 
good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the Author of 
nature to make different kinds and orders of creatures, dis- 
posed him also to place creatures of like kinds in different 
situations ; and that the same principle which disposed him to 
make creatures of different moral capacities, disposed him also 
to place creatures of like moral capacities in different reli- 
gious situations ; and even the same creatures, in different pe- 
riods of their being. And the account or reason of this, is also 
most probably the account why the constitution of things is 
such, as that creatures of moral natures or capacities, for a 
considerable part of that duration in which they are living 
agents, are not at all subjects of morality and religion ; but 
grow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and more, gra- 
dually, from childhood to mature age. 

What, in particular, is the account or reason of these 
things, we must be greatl}^ in the dark, were it onlj^ that we 
know so very little even of our own case. Our present state 
may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, which 
we are wholly ignorant of ; as it has a reference to somewhat 
to come, of which we* know scarce any more than is neces- 
sary for practice. A system or constitution, in its notion, 
implies variety ; and so complicated a one as this world, very 
great variety. So that were revelation universal, yet from 
men's different capacities of understanding, from the different 
lengths of their lives, their different educations and other ex- 
ternal circumstances, and from their difference of temper and 
bodily constitution, their religious situations would be widely 
different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison of 
others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present. And the 
true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or such a part of 
mankind, are placed in this condition of ignorance, must be 
supposed also the true account of our farther ignorance, in 
not knowing the reasons why, or whence it is, that they are 
placed in this condition. But the following practical reflec- 
tions may deserve the serious consideration of those persons, 
who think the circumstances of mankind, or their own, in the 
forementioned respects, a ground of complaint. 

First^ The evidence of religion not appearing obvious, 
may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in the 
religious sense ; as it gives scope for a virtuous exercise, or 
vicious neglect, of their understanding, in examinino: or not 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIETfCY IN ITS PROOF. 277 



examining into that evidence. There seems no possible rea- 
son to be given, why we maj^ not be in a state of moral pro- 
bation, with regard to the exercise of our "understanding upon 
the subject of religion, as we are with regard to our behaviour 
in common affairs. The former is as much a thing within 
our power and choice as the latter. And I suppose it is to 
be laid down for certain, that the sam^e character, the same 
inward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the 
truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of it, 
would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an exam- 
ination of it, upon its system and evidence being offered to his 
thoughts : and that in the latter state, his examination would 
be with an impartiality, seriousness, and solicitude, proportion- 
able to what his obedience is in the fornier. And as inatten- 
tion, negligence, want of all serious concern, about a matter 
of such a nature and such importance, when offered to men's 
consideration, is, before a distinct conviction of its truth, as 
real innnoral depravity and dissoluteness, as neglect of reli- 
gious practice after such conviction ; so, active solicitude 
about it, and fair impartial consideration of its evidence before 
such conviction, is as really an exercise of a morally right 
temper, as is religious practice after. Thus, that religion is 
not intuitively true, but a matter of deduction and inference ; 
that a conviction of its truth is not forced upon everj^ one, 
but left to be, by some, collected with heedful attention to 
premises ; this as much constitutes religious probation, as 
much affords sphere, scope, opporlunit}^, for right and wrong 
behaviour, as any thing whatever does. And their manner 
of treating this subject, when laid before them, shows what 
is in their heart, and is an exertion of it. 

Secondly^ It appears to be a thing as evident, thougli it is 
not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration of religion, 
the evidence of it should seem to any persons doubtfal in 
the highest supposable degree, even this doubtful evidence 
will, however, put them into a general state of prchation^ in 
the moral and religious sense. For, suppose a man to be really 
in doubt,' v/hether such a person had not done him the great- 
est favor ; or, whether his whole temporal interest did not de- 
pend upon that person ; no one who had any sense of grati- 
tude and of prudence, could possibly consider himself in the 
same situation, with regard to such person, as if he had no 
such doubt. In truth, it is as just to say, that certainty and 
doubt are the same, as to say, the situations now mentioned 
would leave a man as entirely at liberty, in point of gratitude 



213 



REVELATION NpT UNIVERSAL *. [PART II. 



or prudence, as he would be, were he certain he had received 
no favor from such person, or that he no way depended upon 
» him. And thus, though the evidence of religion which is 

afforded to some men, should be little more than that thej are 
given to see the system of Christianity, or religion in general, 
to be supposable and credible, this ought in all reason to beget 
I a serious practical apprehension that it may be true. And even 

this will afford matter of exercise, for religious suspense and 
deliberation, for moral resolution and self-government ; because 
the apprehension that religion may be true, does as really 
lay men under obligations, as a full conviction that it is 
true. It gives occasion and motives to consider farther the 
important subject ; to preserve attentively upon their minds 
a general implicit sense that they may be under di\ine moral 
government, an awful solicitude about religion, whether na- 
tural or revealed. Such apprehension ought to turn men's 
eyes to every degree of new light which ma}^ be had, from 
whatever side it comes, and induce them to refrain, in the 
mean time, from all immoralities, and live in the conscientious 
practice of every common virtue. Especially are they bound 
to keep at the greatest distance from all dissolute profaneness 
--for this the very nature of the case forbids ; and to treat 
ith highest reverence a matter upon which their own whole 
interest and being, and the fate of nature depends. This be- 
haviour, and an active endeavour to maintain within them- 
selves this temper, is the business, the duty and the wisdom 
of those persons, who complain of the doubtfulness of reli- 
gion ; is what they are under the most proper obligations to ; 
and such behaviour is an exertion of, and has a tendency to 
improve in them, that character, which the practice of all the 
several duties of religion, from a full conviction of its truth, 
is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve in others ; 
others, I say, tow'hom God has afforded such conviction. Nay, 
considering the infinite importance of religion, revealed as 
well as natural, I think it may be said in general, that who- 
ever will weigh the matter thoroughly, may see there is not 
near so much difference as is commonly imagined, between 
what ought in reason to be the rule of life, to those persons who 
are fully convinced of its truth, and to those who have only 
a serious doubting apprehension that it may be true. Their 
hopes, and fears, and obligations, will be in various degrees ; 
but as the subject-matter of their hopes and fears is the same, 
so the subject-matter of their obligations, what they are bound 
to do and to refrain from, is not so very unlike.- 

I 



CHAP. Vl.j SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 279 



It Ls to be observed farther, that, from a character of under- 
standing, or a situation of influence in the world, sonie per- 
sons have it in their power to do infinitely more harm or good, 
hy setting an example of profaneness, and avowed disregard 
to all religion, or, on the contrary, of a serious, though perhaps 
doubting, apprehension of its truth, and of a reverend regard 
to it under this doubtfulness, than they can do by acting well 
or ill in all the common intercourses amongst mankind ; and 
consequently they are most highly accountable for a beha- 
viour, which, they may easily foresee, is of such importance, 
and in which there is most plainly a right and a wrong ; even 
admitting the evidence of religion to be as doubtful as is pre- 
tended. 

The ground of these observations, and that which renders 
them just and true, is, that doubting necessarily implies some 
degree of evidence for that of which we doubt. For no per- 
son would be in doubt concerning the truth of a number of 
facts so and so circumstanced, Vv'hich should accidentally come 
into his thoughts, and of which he had no evidence at all. 
And though in the case of an even chance, and where conse- 
quently we were in doubt, we should in common language say, 
that we had no evidence at all for either side : yet that situa- 
tion of things wliich renders it an even chance and no more 
that such an event will happen, renders this case equivalent 
to all others, where there is such evidence on both sides of a 
question,"^ as leaves the mind in doubt concerning the truth. 
Indeed, in all these cases, there is no more evidence on the 
one side than on the other : but there is (v/hat is equivalent 
to) much more for either, than for the truth of a number of 
facts which come into one's thoughts at random. And thus, 
in all these cases, doubt as much presupposes evidence, lower 
degrees of evidence, as belief presupposes higher, and cer- 
tainty higher still. Any one, who will a little attend to the na- 
ture of evidence, will easily carry this observaticn on, and see, 
that between no evidence at all, and that degree of it which 
affords ground of doubt, there are as manv intermediate de- 
grees, as there are between that degree which is the ground 
of doubt, and demonstration. And, though we have not fa- 
culties to distinguish these degrees of evidence with any sort 
of exactness, yet, in proportion as they are discerned, they 
ought to influence our practice. For it is as real an imperfec- 
tion in the moral character, not to be influenced in practice by a 



* Introduction. 



280 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART II. 



lower degree of evidence when discerned, as it is in the under- 
standing, not to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men 
consider, they discern the lower as well as higher degrees 
of evidence, proportionably to their capacity of understanding ; 
so in practical subjects, they are influenced in practice by 
the lower as well as higher degrees of it, proportionably to 
theii' fairness and honesty. And as, in proportion to de- 
fects in the understanding, men are unapt to see lower degrees 
of evidence, are in danger of overlooking evidence when it is 
not glaring, and are easily imposed upon in such cases ; so, 
in proportion to the corruption of the heart, they seem capa- 
ble of satisfying themselves with having no regard in prac- 
tice to evidence acknov.'ledged real, if it be not overbearing. 
From these things it must follow, that doubting concerning 
religion implies such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with 
the consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays men 
under the obligations before mentioned, to have a dutiful regard 
to it in all their behaviour. 

Thirdlij^ The difficulties in which the evidence of reli- 
gion is involved, which some complain of, is no more a just 
ground of complaint, than the external circumstances of tempt- 
ation, which others are placed in ; or than difficulties in the 
practice of it, after a full conviction of i<-s truth. Temptations 
render our state a more improving state of discipline* than it 
would be otherwise ; as they give occasion for a more atten- 
tive exercise of the virtuous principle, which confirms and 
strengthens it more than an easier or less attentive exercise of 
it could. Now, speculative difficulties are, in this respect, of 
the very same nature with these external temptations. For 
the evidence of religion not appearing obvious, is, to some 
persons, a temptation to reject it, without any consideration 
at all : and therefore requires such an attentive exercise of 
the virtuous principle, seriously to consider that evidence, as 
there would be no occasion for, but for such temptation. And 
the supposed doubtfulness of its evidence, after it has been in 
some sort considered, affords opportunity to an unfair mind, 
of explaining away, and deceitfully hiding from itself, that 
evidence which it might see : and also for men's encouraging 
themselves in vice, from hopes of impunity, though they do 
clearly see thus much at least, that these hopes ai'e uncertain : 
in like mianner, as the common temptations to many instances 
of folly, which end in temporal infamy and ruin, is the ground 



* Part J. chap. 5. 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 



2SI 



for hope of not being detected, and of escaping with impunity ; 
i. e. the doubtfulness of the truth beforehand, that such foolish 
behaviour will thus end in infamy and ruin. On the con- 
trary, supposed doubtfulness in the evidence of religion calls 
for a more careful and attentive exercise of the virtuous prhi- 
ciple, in fairly yielding themselves up to the proper influence 
of any real evidence, though doubtful ; and in practismg con- 
scientiously all virtue, though under some uncertainty 
whether the government in the universe may not possibly 
be such, as that vice may escape with impunity. And, in 
general, temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allure- 
ments to wrong, and difficulties in the discharge of our duty, 
as well as the greater ones ; temptation, I saj^, as such, and 
of every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous 
elFortSj additional to w^hat would otherwise have been wanting, 
cannot but be an additional discipline and improvement of 
virtue, as well as probation of it, in the other senses of that 
word.* So that the very same account is to be given, why 
the evidence of religion should be left in such a manner, as to 
require, in some, an attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful, ex- 
ercise of their understanding about it ; as why others should 
be placed in such circumstances as that the practice of its 
common duties, after a full conviction of the truth of it, should 
require attention, solicitude, and pains : or, why appearing 
doubtfulness should be permitted to afford matter of tempta- 
tion to some ; as why external difficulties and allurements 
should be permitted to afford matter of temptation to others. 
The same account also is to be given, why some should be 
exercised w'ith. temptations of both these kinds, as why others 
should be exercised with the latter in such very high de- 
grees, as some have been, particularly as the primitive 
Christians were. 

Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing, that the 
speculative difficulties in which the evidence of religion is 
involved, may m.ake even the principal part of some per- 
sons' trial. For, as the chief temptations of the generality 
of the world, are, the ordinary motives to injustice or unre- 
strained pleasure ; or to live in the neglect of religion from 
that frame of mind, v/hich renders many persons almost with- 
out feeling as to any thing distant, or v/hich is not the object 
of their senses ; so there are other persons wdthout this shal- 
iov/ness of temper, persons of a deeper sense as to what is in- 

* Part i. cliap. 4, nnd page 1.31. 

21* 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART lU 



visible and future, who not only see, but have a general prac- 
tical feeling that what is to come will be present, and that 
things are not less real for their not being the object of sense : 
and who, fi'om their natural constitution of body and of temper, 
and from theii' external condition, may have small temptations 
to behave ill, small difficulty in behaving well, in the common 
course of life. Now, when these latter persons have a distinct, 
full conviction of the truth of religion, without any possible 
doubts or difficulties, the practice of it is to them unavoidable, 
unless they will do a constant violence to their own minds ; 
and religion is scarce any more a discipline to them, than it is 
to creatures in a state of perfection. Yet these persons may 
possibly stand in need of moral discipline and exercise, in a 
higher degree than they would have by such an easy practice 
of religion. Or it may be requisite, for reasons unknown to 
us, that they should give some further manifestation* what is 
their moral character, to the creation of God, than such a 
practice of it would be. Thus, in the great variet v of religious 
situations in which men are placed, what constitutes, what 
chiefi}^ and peculiarh' constitutes the probation, in all senses, 
of some persons, may be the difficulties in which the evidence 
of religion is involved ; and their principal and distinguished 
trial may be, how they will behave under and \vith respect to 
these difficulties. Cii'cumstances in men's situation in their 
temporal capacity, analogous in good measure to tliis, re- 
specting religion, are to be observed. We find, some persons 
are placed in such a situation in the world, as that theii* cliief 
difficulty, with regard to conduct, is not the doing what is 
prudent when it is kno^\^l ; for this, in numberless cases, is 
as easy as the contrary : but to some, the principal exercise 
is, recollection, and being upon their guard against deceits ; 
the deceits, suppose, of those about them ; against false ap- 
pearances of reason and prudence. To persons in some situa- 
tions, the principal exercise, with respect to conduct, is atten- 
tion, in order to inform themselves what is proper, what is 
really the reasonable and prudent part to act. 

But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that men's 
dissatisfaction ^^ith the evidence of religion, is not owing to 
their neglects or prejudices ; it mast be added, on the other 
hand, in all common reason, and as what the truth of the 
cose plainly reqiiii'es should be added, that such dissatisfac- 



* Page 131 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN- ITS PROOF. 



2^3 



lion possibly rnaj'' be owing to those, possibly may be men's 
own fault. For, 

If theie are any persons, who never set themselves heartily, 
and in earnest, to be informed in religion . if there are any, 
who secretly wish it nmy not prove true, and are less atten- 
tive to evidence than to difficulties, and more to objections 
than to what is said in ansvv'er to them ; these persons will 
scarce be thought in a likel}' way of seeing the evidence of 
religion, though it were most certainly true, and capable of 
being ever so fully proved. If any accustom themselves to 
consider this subject usually in the way of mirth and sport ; 
if thej^ attend to forms and representations, and inadequate 
manners of expression, instead of the real things intended by 
them, (for signs often can be no more than inadequately ex- 
pressive of the things signified :) or if they substitute human 
errors in the room of divine truth ; why may not all, or any 
of these things, hinder some men from seeing that evidence 
which really is seen by others ; as a like turn of mind, v/ith 
respect to matters of common speculation, and practice, does, 
we find by experience, hinder them from attaining that know- 
ledge and right understanding, in matters of common specu- 
lation and practice, which more fair and attentive minds at- 
tain to 1 And the effect will be the same, whether their neg- 
lect of seriously considering the evidence of religion, and their 
indirect behaviour with regard to it, proceed from niere care- 
lessness, or from the grosser vices ; or whether it be owing 
to this, that forms, and figurative manners of expression, ais 
well as errors, administer occasions of ridicule, w^hen the 
things intended, and the truth itself, vrould not. Men may 
indulge a ludicrous turn so far, as to lose all sense of conduct 
and prudence in wwldiy affairs, and even, as it seems, to 
impair their facultj- of reason. And in general, levity, care- 
lessness, passion, and prejudice, do hinder us from being 
rightl}" informed, with respect to common things ; and they 
may, in like mamner, and perhaps in some farther providential 
manner, with respect to moral and religious subjects: may 
hinder e\'idence from being laid before us. and from being seen 
when it is. The Scripture* does declare, ' that every one 
shall not understand.' And it makes no difference hy what 

* Dan. xii. 10. See also Isa. xxix. 13, 14. Matt. vi. 23, and xi. 25, 
and xxiii. 1 1, 12. John iii. 9. John v. 44. 1 Cor. ii. 14, and 2 Cor. ivl 
4. 2 Tim. iii. 13 ; and that affectionate, as well as authoritative admo- 
nition, so very many times inculcated, * He that hath ears to hear, let 
aim hear.' Grotius saw so strongly the thing intended in these and 



284 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL 



[part IL 



providential condiict this comes to pass; ^vhether the evi- 
dence of Chrislianitj was, originally and with design, put 
and left so, as that those who are desirous of evading moral 
obligations, should not see it, and that honest-minded persons 
should ; or whether it comes to pass hy any other means. 

Farther: The general proof of natural religion and of Chris- 
tianitj^, does, I think, lie level to common men ; even those, 
the greatest part of whose time, from childhood to old age, is 
taken up with providing, for themselves and their families, the 
com.mon conveniences, perhaps necessaries of life ; those I 
mean, of this rank, who ever think at all of asking after 
proof, or attending to it. Common men, were they as much 
in earnest about religion as about their temporal affairs, are 
capable of being convinced upon real evidence, that there is a 
God who governs the world ; and they feel themselves to 
be of a moral nature, and accountable creatures. And as 
Christianity entirely falls in with this their natural sense of 
things ; so they are capable, not only of being persuaded, but 
of being made to see, that there is evidence of miracles 
wrought in attestation of it, and many appearing completions 
of prophecy. But though this proof is real and conclusive, 
yet it is liable to objections, and may be run up into difficul- 
ties ; which, however, persons who are capable, not only of 
talking of, but of really seeing, are capable also of seeing 
through ; i. e. not of clearing up and answering them, so as 
to satisfy their curiosity, for of such knowledge we are not 
capable with respect to any one thing in nature ; but capable 
of seeing that the proof is not lost in these difficulties, or de- 
stroyed by these objections. But then a thorough examina- 
tion into religion, with regard to these objections, which can- 
not be the business of every man, is a matter of pretty large 
compass, and from the nature of it, requires some knowledge, 
as well as time and attention, to see how the evidence comes 
out, upon balancing one thing with another, and what, upon 
the Vv^iole, is the amount of it. Now, if persons who have 
picked up these objections from others, and take for granted 
the}^ are of weight, upon the word of those fi*om whom they 
received them, or, by often retailing of them, come to see, or 
fancy thej^ see, them to be of weight, will not prepare them- 
selves for such an examination, with a competent degree of 

other passages of Scripture of the like sense, as to say, that the proof 
given us of Christianity was less than it might have been, for this very 
purpose : Ut ita sermo Evayigelii taiiquam lapis esset Lydius ad quern in* 
genia sanabilia exphrartntuv, De Ver. R. C. L 2. towards the end. 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFiCIEXCY IN ITS FROOi' . 2^5 

knowledge : or will not give that time and attention to the 
subject, which, from the natm'e of it. is necessarj^ for attaining 
such information : in this case, the\" must remain in doubtfuh 
ness, ignorance, or error ; in the same waj^ as lliQy must, 
with regard to com.mon sciences, and matters of common life, 
if they neglect the necessary means of being informed in 
them. 

But still, perhaps, it will be objected, that if a prince or 
common master were to send directions to a servant, he would 
take care, that they should always bear the certain marks 
who they came from, and that then* sense should be always 
plain : so as that there should be no possible doubt, if he 
could help it, concerning the authority or meaning of them. 
Novv', the proper answer to all this kind of objections is, that, 
wherever the fallacy lies, it is even certain we cannot argue 
thus with respect to Him who is the governor of the vrorld ; 
and particularly, that he does not afford us such information, 
with repect to our temporal affairs and interests, as experience 
abundantly shows. However, there is a full answer to this 
objection, from the very nature of religion. For, the reason 
why a prince would give his directions in this plain manner, 
is, that he absolutely desires such an external action should 
be done, without concerning himself with the motive or prin- 
ciple upon which ir is done : z. e. he regards orAy the external 
event, or the thing's being done, and not at all, properly 
speaking, the doing of it, or the action. Whereas the whole 
of morality and religion consisting merely in action itself, 
there is no sort of parallel betw^een the causes. But if the 
prince be supposed to regard only the action ; i.e. orAy to 
desire to exercise, or m any sense prove, the understanding 
or loyalty of a servant, he would not always give his orders 
in such a plain manner. It may be proper to add, that the 
will of God, respecting morality and religion, may be consid- 
ered, either as absolute, or as only conditional. If it be abso- 
lute, it can only be thus, that we should act wirtuously in 
such given chcumstances : not that we should be brought 
to act so, by his changing of our circumstances. And if 
God's will be thus absolute, then it is in our power, in the 
highest and strictest sense, to do or to contradict his vvdll : 
which is a most weighty consideration. Or his will may be 
considered only as conditional. — that if we act so and so, we 
shall be rewarded ; if other^\dse, punished : of which condi- 
tional will of the Author of nature, the whole constitution of 
it affords most certain instances. 



2^6 



REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : 



[PAFwT li. 



Upon the whole : That vve are in a state of religion neces» 
sarilj implies, that we are in a state of probation ; and the 
ciedibilitj' of our being at all in such a state being admitted, 
there seems no peculiar difficulty in supposing our probation 
to be, just as it is, m those respects which are above objected 
I against. There se^rns no pretence from the reason of the 

thing to say, that the trial cannot equitably be any thing, 
but whether persons will act suitably to certain infomation, 
or such as admits no room for doubt; so as that there can be no 
danger of miscarriage, but either from their not attending to 
v/hat they certainly know, or from overbearing passion huny- 
mg them on to act contrarj^ to it. For. since ignorance and 
doubt afford scope for probation in all senses, as really as in- 
tuitive conviction or certainty ; and since the two former are 
to be put to the same account as difficulties in practice ; men's 
moral probation maj" also be, whether they "will take due care 
to inform themselves by impartial consideration, and aftervv^ards 
whether they will act as the case requires, upon the evidence 
which they have, however doubtful. And this, we find by 
experience^ is frequently our probation,* in our temporal ca- 
pacity. For the information which we want, with regard to 
our w^orldly interests, is by no means always given us of 
course, without any care of pur own. And we are greatly 
liable to self-deceit from inward secret prejudices, and also to 
the deceit of others. So that to be able to judge what is the 
prudent part, often requires much and difficult consideration. 
Then, after we have judged the very best we can, the evidence 
upon which we must act, if we hve and act at all, is perpetually 
doubtful to a very high degree. And the constitution and 
course of the world m fact is such, as that want of impartial 
consideration v/hat we have to do, and venturing upon extra- 
vagant courses, because it is doubtful what will be the conse- 
quence, are often naturally, i. e. providentially, altogether as 
fatal, as misconduct occasioned by heedless inattention to 
what we certainh^ know, or disregarding it fr'om overbearing 
passion. 

Several of the observations here made may vrell seem 
strange, perhaps unintelligible, to many good men. But if 
the persons for whose sake the}' are made, think so ; persons 
who object as above, and throw off all regard to religion un- 
der pretence of want of evidence ; I desire them to consider 
again whether their thinking so, be owing to any thing imin- 

* Pages 81, 226, 22S, 229* 

I 



CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN IIS PROOF. 287 

telligible in these observations, or to their own not having such 
a sense of religion and serious solicitude about it, as even 
their state of scepticism does in all reason require 1 It ought 
to be forced upon the reflection of these persons that oiu' na- 
ture and condition necessarily require us, in the daily course 
of life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is com- 
monlj^ called probable ; to guar i, not only against what we 
fully believe will, but also against what we think it supposa- 
ble may, happen ; and to engage in pursuits when the proba- 
bility is greatly against success, if it be credible that possibly 
we may succeed in them. 



28b 



OF 



THE PARTICULAII EVIDEMCE 



[ TART II, 



CHAPTER YII. 



Of the particular Evidence for Christianiiy 

The presumptions against revelation, and objections cgamst 
the general scheme of Christianitjj and particular things re- 
lating to it, being removed, there remains to be considered, 
what jDositive evidence we have for the truth of it ; chiefly in 
order to see, what the analogy of nature suggests \viih regard 
to that evidence, and the objections against it ; or to see what 
is, and is allowed to be, the plain natural rule of judgment 
and of action, in our temporal concerns, in cases where we 
have the spvme kind of ev idence, and the same kind of objec- 
tions against it, that we have in the case before us. Now, in 
the evidence of Christianitjj, there seems to be several things 
of great weight, not reducible to the head, either of miracles, or 
the completion of prophecjf, in the common acceptation of the 
words. But these two are its direct and fundamental proofs ; 
and those other things, however considerable they are, j^et 
ought never to be urged apart from its direct proofs, but always 
to be joined with them. Thus the e\ddence of Christianity 
wtlU be a long series of things, reaching, as it seems, from the 
beginning of the world to the present time, of great variety 
and compass, taking in both the direct, and also the collateral 
proofs, and making up, all of them together, one argument ; 
the conviction arising from which kind of proof maj^ be com- 
pared to what they call the effect in architecture or other 
works of art ; a result from a great number of things so and so 
disposed, and taken into one \dew. I shall therefore, first, 
make some observations relating to miracles, and the appear 
ing completions of prophecy : and consider what analogy sug- 
gests, in answer to the objections brought against this evi 
dence. And, secondlij^ I shall endeavom* to give some ac- 
count of the general argument now mentioned, consisting 
both of the direct and collateral evidence, considered as making 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIAISITY. 



289 



up one argument; this being the kind of jDroof upon which we 
determine most questions of difficulty concerning common facts, 
alleged to have happened^ or seeming likely to happen ; es- 
pecially questions relating to conduct. 

First J I shall make some observations upon the direct proof 
of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and upon the ob- 
jections alleged against it. 

I. Now, the following observations, relating to the histori- 
cal evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of Christia- 
nity, appear to be of great weight. 

1. The Old Testament affords us the same historical evi- 
dence of the iTiiracles of Moses and of the prophets, as of the 
common civil history of Moses and the kings of Israel ; or, as 
of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And the Gospels and the 
Acts afford us the same historical evidence of the miracles of 
Christ and the Apostles, as of the common matters related in 
them. This, indeed, could not have been affirmed by any rea- 
sonable man, if the authors of these books, like many other 
historians, had appeared to make an entertaining manner of 
writing their aim ; though they had interspersed miracles in 
their works, at proper distances, and upon proper occasions. 
These might have animated a dull relation, amused the 
reader, and engaged his attention. And the same account 
would naturally have been given of them, as of the speeches 
and descriptions of such authors ; the same account, in a 
manner, as is to be given, why the poets make use of won- 
ders and prodigies. But the facts, both miraculous and 
natural, in Scripture, are related in plain unadorned narra- 
tives ; and both of them appear, in all respects, to stand 
upon the same foot of historical evidence. Farther : Some 
parts of Scripture, containing an account of miracles fully 
sufficient to prove the truth of Christianity, are quoted as 
genuine, from the age in which they are said to be written^ 
down to the present : and no other parts of them, material 
in the present question, are omitted to be quoted, in such man- 
ner as to ,afFord any sort of proof of their not being genuine^ 
And, as common history, when called in question in any in- 
stance, may often be greatly confirmed by contemporary or 
subsequent events more known and acknov/ledged ; and as 
the common Scripture history, like many others, is thus con- 
firmed ; so like^vise is the miraculous history of it, not only 
in particular instances, but in general. For, the establish- 
ment of the Jewish and Christian religions, which were events 
contemporary with the miracles related to be wrought in at- 



290 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II. 



testation of both, or subsequent to them, these events are just 
what we should have expected, upon supposition such mira- 
cles were really wrought to attest the truth of those religions. 
These miracles are a satisfactory account of those events ; 
of which no other satisfactory account can be given, nor any 
account at all, but what is imaginary merely and invented. 
It is to be added, that the most obvious, the most easy and 
direct account of this history, how it came to be written and 
to be received in the world, as a true history, is, that it really 
is so ; nor can any other account of it be easy and direct. 
Now, though an account, not at all obvious, but very far- 
fetched and indirect, may indeed be, and often is, the true ac- 
count of a matter ; yet, it cannot be admitted on the authority 
of its being asserted. Mere guess, supposition, and possibility, 
when opposed to historical evidence prove nothing, but that 
historical evidence is not demonstrative. 

Now, the just consequence from all this, I think, is, that 
the Scripture history, in general, is to be admitted as an au- 
thentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be alleged 
sufficient to invalidate it. But no man will deny the conse- 
quence to be, that it cannot be rejected, or thrown by as of 
no authority, till it can be proved to be of none ; even though 
the evidence now mentioned for its authority were doubtful. 
This evidence may be confronted by historical evidence on 
the other side, if there be any ; or general incredibility in the 
things related, or inconsistence in the generfil turn of the his- 
tory, would prove it to be of no authority. But since, upon 
the face of the matter, upon a first and general view, the ap- 
pearance is, that it is an authentic history, it cannot be deter- 
mined to be fictitious without some proof that it is so. And 
the following observations, in support of these and coincident 
with them, will greatly confirm the historical evidence for the 
truth of Christianity. 

2, The Epistles of St. Paul, fi-om the nature of epistolary 
writing, and moreover, from several of them being written, 
not to particular persons, but to churches, carry in them evi- 
dences of their being genuine, beyond what can be, in a mere 
historical narrative, left to the world at large. This evidence, 
joined with that which they have in common with the rest of 
the New Testament, seems not to leave so much as any par- 
ticular pretence for denying their genuineness, considered as 
an ordinary matter of fact, or of criticism : I say, particular 
pretence for denying it ; because any single fact, of such a 
kind and such antiquity, may have general doubts raised con- 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRiSTIANlTY. 



291 



ceming it, from the very nature of human affah's and human 
testimony. There is also to be rnentioned, a distinct and par- 
^ ticular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle chiefly re- 
feiTed to here, the first to the Corinthians ; from the manner 
in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus^ in an epistie of 
his own to that church.^ Now, these epistles aiford a proof 
of Christianity, detached from all others, which is, I think, a 
thing of weight ; and also a proof of a nature and kind pe- 
culiar to itself. For, 

In them the author declares that he received the gospel in 
general, and the institution of the communion in particular, 
not from the rest of the Apostles, or jointly together with 
them, but alone from Christ himself ; whom he declares, like- 
wise conformably to the history in the Acts, that he saw after 
his ascension. I So that the testimony of St Paul is to be 
considered, as detached from that of the rest of the Apostles. 

And he declares farther, that he was endued with a power 
of working miracles, as what vv^as publicly known to those 
very people ; spea^ks of frequent and great variety of miracu- 
lous gifts, as then subsisting in those very churches to which 
he was writing ; which he v/as reproving for several iii'egu- 
larities ; and where he had personal opposers : he mentions 
these gifts incidentallj^, in the most easj' manner, and without 
effort ; by way of reproof to those who had them, for their 
indecent use of them ; and by w^ay of depreciating them, in 
# comparison of moral virtues. In short, he speaks to these 
churches of these miraculous powers, in the manner any one 
would speak to another of a thing, which was as familiar, 
and as much known in common to them both, as any thing 
in the world.J And this, as has been observed by several 
persons, is surely a very considerable thing. 

3. It is an acknowledged historical fact, that Christianity 
offered itself to the world and demanded to be received, upon 
the allegation, 1 e. as unbelievers would speak, upon the pre- 
tence of miracles, publicly wrought to attest the truth of it, in 
such an age ; and that it was actually received by great 
numbers in that very age, and upon the professed belief of the 
reality of these miracles. And Christianity, including the dis- 
pensation of the Old Testament, seems distinguished by this 
from all other religions. I mean, that this does not appear 

* Clem. Rom. Ep. i. c. 47. 

t Gal. i. 1 Cor. xi. 23, &c. 1 Cor. xv. 8. 

JRom. XV. 19. 1 Cor, xii. 8, 9, 10—28, &c. and chap. xiii. 1, 2, 8 
and the whole xivth chap. 2 Ccr. xii. 12, 13. Gal. iii. 2, 5. 



292 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [pART II. 

be the case with, regard to any other : for STirelv it will not 
be supposed to lie upon any person, to prove, by positive his- 
torical e^ndence, that it was not. It does in no sort appear 
that Mahometanism was fii'st received in the world upon the 
foot of supposed miracles,* i, e. public ones : for, as revelation 
is itself miraculous, all pretence to it must necessarily imply 
some pretence of mii'acles. And it is a known fact, that it 
was immediately, at the very fii'st, propagated by other 
means. And as particular institutions, whether in paganism 
or popery, said to be confiiiued by miracles after those insti- 
tutions had obtained, are not to the purpose ; so, were there 
what ixiight be called historical proof, that any of them were 
introduced by a supposed di\dne command, believed to be at- 
tested by miracles, these would not be in any wise parallel. 
For single things of this sort are easy to be accounted for, 
after parties are formed, and have power in their hands ; and 
the leaders of them are in veneration with the multitude ; 
and political interests are blended with religious claims, and 
religious distinctions. But before any thing of this kind, for 
a few persons, and those of the lowest rank, all at once to 
bring over such great numbers to a new religion, and get it 
to be received upon the particular evidence of miracles ; this 
is quite another thing. And I think it will be allowed by 
any fair adversary, that the fact now m^entioned, taking in 
all the circumstances of it, is peculiar to the Christian reli- 
gion. However, the fact itself is allowed, that Cluistianitj^ 
obtained, i. e. was professed to be received in the world, upon 
the belief of miracles, immediately in the age in which it is 
said those mii'acles were wrought : or that this is what its 
first converts would have alleged, as the reason for their em- 
bracing it. Now, certainl}' it is not to be supposed, that such 
numbers of men, in the most distant parts of the world, should 
forsake the religion of their countiy, in which they had been 
educated ; separate themselves from their friends, particularly 
in their festival shows and solemnities, to which the common 
people are so greatl}- addicted, and which were of a nature 
to engage them much more than am' thing of that sort 
amongst us ; and embrace a religion which could not but ex- 
pose them to many inconveniences, and indeed must have 
been a giving up the world in a great degree, even fi'om the 
very first, and before the empire engaged in form against 
them: it cannot be supposed, that such numbers should 



* See the Koran, chap. xiii. and chap. xvii. 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



293 



make so great, and, to say the least, so inconvenient a change 
in their whole institution of life, unless they were really con- 
vinced of the truth of those miracles, upon the knowledge or 
belief of which they professed to make it. And it will, I sup- 
pose, readily be acknowledged, that the generality of the 
first converts to Christianity must have believed them ; that 
as, by becoming Christians, they declared to the world they 
were satisfied of the truth of those miracles, so this declara- 
tion was to be credited. And this their testimony is the 
same kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had put it 
in writing, and these writings had come down to us. And it 
is real evidence, because it is of facts, which they had capa- 
city and full opportunity to inform themselves of. It is also 
distinct from the direct or express historical evidence, though 
it is of the same kind ; and it would be allowed to be distinct 
in all cases. For, were a fact expressly related by one or 
more ancient historians, and disputed in after ages ; that this 
fact is acknowledged to have been believed, by great numbers 
of the age in which the historian says it was done, would be 
allowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct from 
the express testimony of the historian. The credulity of 
mankind is acknowledged, and the suspicions of mankind 
ought to be acknowledged too ; and their backwardness even 
to be]ieve, and greater still to practise, what makes against 
their interest. And it must particularly be remembered, that 
education, and prejudice, and authority, were against Chris- 
tianity, in the age I am speaking of. So that the immediate 
conversion of such numbers, is a real presumption of some- 
what more than human in this matter : I say presumption, 
for it is alleged as a proof, alone and by itself. Nor need any 
one of the things mentioned in this chapter be considered as a 
proof by itself ; and yet all of them together may be one of 
the strongest. 

Upon the whole, as there is large historical evidence, both 
direct and circumstantial, of miracles v/rought in attestation of 
Christianity, collected by those who have writ upon the sub- 
ject ; it lies upon unbelievers to show why this evidence is not 
to be credited. This way of speaking is, I think, just, and 
what persons who write in defence of religion naturally fall 
into. Yet, in a matter of such unspeakable importance, the 
proper question is, not whom it lies upon, according to the 
rules of argument, to maintain or confute objections; but, 
whether there really are any against this evidence, sufficient, 



294 



OF THE PAPvTICULAR EVIDENCE " [pART II. 



in reason, to destroy the credit of i^, ? However, unbe-lievers 
seem to take upon them the part of showing that there are. 

The J allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in different 
ages and countries, expose themselves to the same difficulties 
which the primitive Christians did ; and are ready to give up 
their lives, for the most idle follies imaginable. But it is not 
very clear, to what purpose this objection is brought ; for 
every one, surely, in every case, must distinguish between 
opinions and facts. And though testimony is no proof of en- 
thusiastic opinions, or any opinions at all ; yet, it is allowed, in 
all other cases to be a proof of facts. And a person's laying 
down his life in attestation of facts or of opinions, is the 
strongest proof of his believing them. And if the apostles 
and their contemporaries did .believe the facts, in attestation of 
which they exposed themselves to sufferings and death this 
their belief, or rather knowledge, must be a proof of those facts ; 
for they were such as come under the observation of .'their 
senses. And though it is not of equal weight, yet it is of 
weight, that the martyrs of the next age, notwithstanding 
they were not eye-^vitnesses of those facts, as were the 
apostles and their contemporaries, had, however, full oppor- 
tunity to inform themselves, whether they were true or not, 
and give equal proof of their believing them to be true. 

But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evidence of 
testimony even for facts, in matters relating to religion ; som.e 
seem to think, it totally and absolutely destroys the e^^ddence of 
testimony upon the subject. And, indeed, the powers of enthu- 
siasm, and of diseases, too, wliich operate in a like manner, are 
very wonderful, in particular instances. But if great numbers 
of men not appearing in any peculiar degree weak, nor under 
any peculiar suspicion of negligence, affirm that they saw and 
heard such things plainly with their eyes and their ears, and 
are admitted to be in earnest ; such testimony is evidence of 
the strongest kind we can have for any matter of fact. Yet, 
possiblj^it may be overcome, strong as it is, b}'- incredibilit}^ in 
the things thus attested, or by contrary testimony. And in 
an instance where one thought it was so overcome, it might 
be just to consider, how far such evidence could be accounted 
for by enthusiasm ; for it seems as if no other imaginable ac- 
count were to be given of it. But till such incredibility be 
shown, or contrary testimony produced, it camiot surely be 
expected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and wonderful an ac- 
count of such testimon}^, as that of enthusiasm "must be ; an 
^iccount so strange, that the generality of mankind can scarce 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



295 



be made to understand what is meant hy it ; it cannot, I say, 
be expected, that such account will be admitted of such evi- 
dence, when there is tliis direct, easy, and obvious account 
of it, that people really saw and heard a thing not incredible, 
w^hich they affirm sincerely, and with full assurance, they did 
see and hear. Granting, then, that enthusiasm is not (stiictly 
speaking) an absurd, but a possible account of such testi- 
monj^, it is manifest that the yevj mention of it goes upon tte 
previous supposition, that the things so attested are incredi- 
ble ; and therefore, need not be considered, till they are shown 
to be so. Much less need it be considered, after the contrary 
has been proved. And I think it has been proved, to full 
satisfaction, that there is no incredibility in a revelation, in 
general, or in such a one as the Christian in particular. 
However, as religion is supposed peculiarly liable to enthusi- 
asm, it may just be observed, that prejudices almost without 
number and without name, romance, affectation, humour, a 
desire to engage attention or to surpiise, the party-spirit, cus- 
tom, little competitions, unaccountable likings and dislikings ; 
these influence men strongly in common matters. And as 
these prejudices are often scarce known or reflected upon by 
the persons themselves who are influenced by them, they are 
to be considered as influences of a like kind to enthusiasm. 
Yet human testimony in common matters is naturally and 
jvistly believed not-\\T.thstanding. 

It is intimated farther, in a more refined way of observa- 
tion, that though it should be proved, that the apostles and 
first Christians could not, in some respects, be deceived them- 
selves, and, in other respects, cannot be thought to have in- 
tended to impose upon the world, yet, it will not follow, that 
their general testimony is to be believed, though truly handed 
down to us ; because they might still in part, i. e. in other 
respects, be deceived themselves, and in part also designedly 
impose upon others ; which, it is added, is a thing very credi- 
ble, firom that mixtiu'e of real enthusiasm, and real knavery, 
to be met w^th in the same characters. And, I must confess, 
I think the matter of fact contained in this observation upon 
mankind, is not to be denied ; and that somewhat very much 
akin to it, is often supposed in Scripture as a very common 
case, and most severely reproved. But it were to have been 
expected, that persons capable of applying this observation as 
applied in the objection, might also frequently have met with 
the like mixed character, in instances where religion was 
quite ouf of the case. The thing plainly is, that mankind are 



296 



OF THE EARTIcri.AK EVIDENCE 



[part II 



naturally endued with reason, or a capacity of distinguishing 
between truth and falsehood : and as naturallj^ they are en- 
dued with veracity, or a regard to truth in what they say : 
but from many occasions, they are hable to be prejudiced, 
and biassed, and deceived themselves, and capable of intend- 
ing to deceive others, in every diiierent degree ; insomuch 
that, as we are all liable to be deceived by prejudice, so like- 
wise it seems to be not an unconmion thing, for persons, who, 
from theh regard to truth, would not invent a lie enthely 
without anj^ foundation at all, to propagate it with heighten- 
ing circumstances, after it is once invented and set agoing. 
And others, though they would not propagate a he, yet, 
w^hich is a lower degree of falsehood, will let it pass without 
contradiction. But, notwithstanding all this, human testi- 
mony remains still a natural gromid of assent ; eind this 
assent, a natural principle of action. 

It is objected farther, that however it has happened, the 
^act is, that mankind have, in different ages, been strangely 
deluded with pretences to miracles and wonders. But it is 
by no means to be admitted, that the}^ have been oftener, or 
are at all more liable to be deceived by these p.retences, than 
by others. 

It is added, that there is a very considerable degree of his- 
torical evidence for mh'acles, which are on all hands acknow- 
ledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were even the like 
historical evidence for these, to what there is for those alleged 
in proof of Christianit}-, which yet is m no wise allowed ; but 
suppose this ; the consequence would not be, the evidence of 
the latter is not to be admitted. Nor is there a man in the 
world who, in common cases, would conclude thus. For 
what would such a conclusion reall}^ amount to but this, that 
evidence, confuted by contrary evidence, or any way over- 
balanced, destroj's the credibility of other evidence, neither 
confuted nor overbalanced ? To argue, that because there is, 
if there were, hke evidence from testimionj', for miracles ac- 
knowledged false, as for those ui attestation of Chiistianity, 
therefore the evidence in the latter case is not to be credited ; 
this is the same as to argue, that if two men of equaUy good 
reputation had given e\idence in different cases no way con- 
nected, and one of them had been convicted of peijury, this 
confuted the testimony of the other. 

Upon the whole, then, the general observation that human 
creatures are so liable to be deceived, from enthusiasm in re- 
ligion, and principles equivalent to enthusiasm in common 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



297 



matters, and in both from negligence ; and that they are so 
capable of dishonestly endeavouring to deceive others ; this 
does indeed weaken the evidence of testimony in all cases, 
but does not destroy it in dLiiy. And these things will appear, 
to different men, to weaken the evidence of testimony, in 
different degrees ; in degrees proportionable to the observa- 
tions they have made, or the notions they have any Vv^aj 
taken up, concerning the weakness, and negligence, and dis- 
honesty of mankind ; or concerning the pov/ers of enthusi- 
asm, and prejudices equivalent to it. But it seems to me^ 
that people do not know what they say, who affirm these 
things to destroy the evidence from testimony, which we 
have of the truth of Christianity. Nothing can destroy the 
evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or probability, 
that persons are not competent judges of the facts to which 
they give testimony ; or that they are actually under some 
indirect influence in giving it, in such particular case. Till 
this be made out, the natural laws of human actions require, 
that testimony be admitted. It can never be sufficient to 
overthrow direct historical evidence, indolently to say, that 
there are so many principles, from whence men are lialDle to 
be deceived themselves and disposed to deceive others, espe- 
cially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to be- 
lieve. And it is surprising persons can help reflecting, that 
this very manner of speaking supposes, they are not satisfied 
that there is nothing in the evidence, of which they speak 
thus ; or that they can avoid observing, if they do make this 
reflection, that it is, on such a subject, a very material one.* 

And over against all these objections, is to be set the im- 
portance of Christianity, as what must have engaged the at- 
tention of its first converts, so as to have rendered them less 
liable to be deceived from carelessness, than they would in 
common matters ; and likewise the strong obligations to ve- 
racity, which their religion laid them under: so that the firsc 
and most obvious presumption is, that they could not be de- 
ceived themselves, nor would deceive others. And this pre- 
sumption, in this degree, is peculiar to the testimony we have 
b3en considering. 

In argument, assertions are nothing in themselves, and 
have an air of positiveness, which sometimes is not very 
easy ; yet they are necessarj^-, and necessary to be repeated, 
in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly to lay before the 



* See the foregoing chapter. 



298 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART IL 



view of the reader what is proposed to be proved, and what is 
left as proved. Now, the conclusion from the foregoing obser- 
vations is, I think, beyond all doubt, this : that unbehevers 
must be forced to adrnit the external evidence for Christianitj, 
i. e, the proof of miracles wrought to attest it, to be of real 
vreight and very considerable ; though they cannot allow it to 
be sufficient to com-ince them of the reality of those mu-acles. 
And as they must, in all reason, admit this, so it seem^s to me, 
that upon consideration they would, m fact, admit it ; those 
of them, I mean, who know any thing at all of the matter : 
in like manner as persons, in many cases, own, they see 
strong evidence from testimony, for the truth of things, which 
yet they cannot be convinced are true : cases, suppose, where 
there is contrarj^ testimony, or things which they think, 
whether ^vith or ^\4thout reason, to be incredible. But there 
is no testimon}' contrar}^ to that which we have been con- 
sidering ; and it has been fully proved, that there is no incredi- 
bility in Christianity in general, or in any part of it. 

II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy, I 
shall only make some few general observ-ations, which are 
suggested by the analogy of nature ; i. e. by the acknow- 
ledged natural rules of judging in common matters, concern- 
ing evidence of a like kind to this from prophecy. 

1. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of a 
prophecy, does not, in anv degree, invahdate the proof of 
foresight, arising from the appearing completion of those other 
parts which are understood. For the case is e^identlj^ the 
same, as if those pai'ts, which are not understood, were lost, 
or not ^TOtten at all, or written in an unknown tongue. 
^Vhether this observation be common^ attended to or not, 
it is so evident, that one can scarce bring one's self to set down 
an instance in common matters, to exemplify it. However, 
suppose a crating, partly in cypher, and partly in plain words 
at length, and that, in the part one understood, there appeared 
mention of several known facts ; it would never come into 
any man's thoughts to imagine, that if he understood the 
whole, perhaps he might find, that those facts were not, in 
realitv, known hy the writer. Indeed, both in this example, 
and the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our not under- 
standing the whole, (the whole, suppose, of a sentence or a 
paragraph.) might sometimes occasion a doubt, whether one 
understood the literal meaning of such a part ; but this comes 
under another consideration. 

For the same reason though a man should be incapable. 



CHAP. VII. j 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



299 



for want of learning-, or opportunities of inquiry, or from not 
having turned his studies this way, even so much as to judge, 
whether particular prophecies have been throughout com- 
pletely fulfilled ; yet he may see, in general, that they have 
been fulfilled, to such a degree, as, upon very good ground, 
to be convinced of foresight more than human ia such pro- 
phecies, and of such events being intended by them. For 
the same reason also, though, by means of the deficiencies 
in civil history, and the different accounts of historians, the 
most learned should not be able to make out to satisfaction, 
that such parts of the prophetic history have been minutely 
and throughout fulfilled ; yet a very strong proof of foresight 
may arise from that general completion of them which is 
made out ; as much proof of foresight, perhaps, as the Giver 
of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by such parts of 
prophecy. 

2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such and 
such events, is itself a proof, that it was intended of them ; 
as the rules, by which we naturally judge and determine, in 
common cases parallel to this, will show. This observation I 
make in answer to the common objection against the applica- 
tion of the prophecies, that, considering each of them distinctly 
by itself, it does not at all appear, that they were intended of 
those particular events to which they are applied by Chris- 
tians ; and, therefore, it is to be supposed, that, if they meant 
any thing, they were intended of other events unknown to us, 
and not of these at ail. 

Now, there are two kinds of writing, which bear a great 
resemblance to prophecj^, ^vi!h respect to the matter before 
us ; the mythological and the satirical, where the satire is, to 
a certain degree, concealed. And a man might be assured, 
that he understood what an author intended by a fable or 
parable, related without an}^ application or m.oral, merely 
from seeing it to be easih^ capable of such application, and 
that such a moral might naturallj^ be deduced from it. And 
he might be fully assured, that such persons and events were 
intended in a satirical writirig, merely from its being applica- 
ble to them. And, agreeably to the last observation, he 
might be in a good measure satisfied of it, though he were 
not enough informed in affair.^i, or in the story of such persons, 
to understand half the satire. For, his satisfaction, that he 
understood the mieaning, the intended meaning, of these 
writings, should be greater or less, in proportion as he saw the 
general turn of them to be capable of such application, and 



306 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE 



[ PART H, 



in proportion to the number of particular tilings capable of it 
And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to the 
present state of the churchj and to the political situations of 
the kingdoms of the world, some thousand years after these 
prophecies were delivered, and a long series of prophecy de- 
livered before the coming of Christ is applicable to him ; these 
things are m themselves a proof, that the prophetic liistory 
was intended of him, and of those events : in proportion as 
the general turn of it is capable of such apphcation, and to 
the number and variety of particular prophecies capable of it. 
And, though in all jast way of consideration, the appearing 
completion of prophecies is ta»be allowed to be thus explana- 
tory of, and to determine their m.eaning ; yet it is to be re- 
membered farther, that the ancient Jews applied the prophe- 
cies to a Messiah before his coming, in much the same man- 
ner as Christians do now ; and that the primitive Christians 
interpreted the prophecies respecting the state of the church 
and of the world in the last ages, in the sense which the 
event seems to confirm and verify. And from these things it 
may be made appear, 

3. That the showing, even to a high probability, if that 
could be, that the prophets thought of some other events, in 
such and such predictions, and not those at all which Chris- 
tians allege to be completions of those predictions ; or that 
such and such prophecies are capable of being applied to 
other events than those to which Christians apply them^ — that 
this would not confute or destroy the force of the argum.ent 
from prophecy, even with regard to those very instances. For^ 
observe how this matter really is. If one knew such a per- 
son to be the sole author of such a book, and was certainly 
assured, or satisfied to ^iiy degree, that one knew^ the whole 
of what he intended in it, one should be assured or satisfied to 
such degree, that one knew the whole meaning of that book ; 
for the meaning of a book is nothing but the meaning of the 
author. But if one knew a person to have compiled a book 
out of memoirs^ which he received fi'om another, of vastly su- 
perior knowledge in the subject of it, especially if it were a 
book full of great intricacies and difficulties, it would in no 
wise follow, that one knew the whole meaning of the book, 
from knowing the whole meaning of the compiler ; for the 
original memoirs, i. e. the author of them, might have, and 
there would be no degree of presumption, in many cases, 
against supposing him to have, some farther meaning than 
the compiler saw. To say, then, that the Scr ptures and the 



CHAP. VII.J 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



301 



things contained in them can have no other or farther mean- 
ing, than those persons thought or had, who first recited or 
wrote them, is evidently sajing, that those persons were the 
original, proper, and sole authors of those books, i. e. that they 
are not inspired : which is absurd, whilst the authority of 
these books is under examination, i. e. till j^ou have determined 
they are of no divine authority at all. Till this be deter" 
mined, it must in all reason be supposed, not indeed that the;y 
have, for this is taking for granted that they are inspired, but 
that the}' may have, some farther meaning than what the 
compilers saw or understood. And, upon this supposition, it 
is supposable also, that this farther meaning may be fulfilled. 
Now, events corresponding to prophecies, interpreted in a dif- 
ferent meaning from that which the prophets are supposed to 
have understood them ; this affords, in a manner, the sam.e 
proof that this different sense was originally intended, as it 
would have afforded, if the prophets had not understood their 
predictions in the sense it is supposed they did : because there 
is no presumption of their sense of them being the whole sense 
of them. And it has been already shown, that the apparent 
completions of prophecy must be allowed to be explanatory 
of its meaning. So that the question is, whether a series of 
prophecy has been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, i. e. in any 
real sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally 
a proof of foresight more than humian, whether the prophets 
are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in a different 
sense. I say, supposed : for though I think it clear, that the 
prophets did not understand the full meaning of their predic- 
tions, it is another question, how farr they thought they did, 
and in what sense they understood them. 

Hence may be seen, to how httle purpose those persons busy 
themselves, who endeavour to prove that the prophetic historj 
is applicable to events of the age in which it was written, or 
of ages before it. Indeed, to have proved this before there 
was any appearance of a farther completion of it, might have 
answered some purpose; for it might have prevented the ex- 
pectation of any such farther completion. Thus, could Por- 
phyry have shown, that some principal parts of the book of 
Daniel, for instance, the seventh verse of the seventh chapter, 
which the Christians interpreted of the latter ages, was appli- 
cable to events Avhich happened before or about the age of 
Antiochus Epiphanes ; this might have prevented them from 
expecting any farther completion of it. And unless there was 
then, as I think there must have been, external evidence con- 



302 



OP THE PARTICULAR, EVIDENCE [PART II 



cerning that bookj more than is come down to us, such a dis- 
coveiy might have been a stumbling-block in the way of 
Christianity itself ; considering the authority which our Sa- 
\iour has given to the book of Daniel, and how much the ge* 
neral scheme of Christianit}^ presupposes the truth of it. But 
even this discovery, had tliere been any such,"^ would be of 
very little weight with reasonable men now ; if this passage, 
tlius applicable to events before the age of Porphyry, appears 
to be applicable also to events, which succeeded the dissolution 
of the Roman empire. I mention this, not at all as intending 
to msinuate, that the division of this empire into ten parts, for it 
plainly was divided uito about that number, were, alone and 
by itself, of any moment in verifying the prophetic history ; 
but only as an example of the thing I am speaking of And 
thus, upon the whole, the matter of inquiry e\idently must be, 
as above put. Whether the prophecies are applicable to Christ, 
and to the present state of the world and of the church ; appli- 
cable in such a degree, as to imply foresight : not whether 
thej^ are capable of any other application ; though I know no 
pretence for saying, the general turn of them is capable of any 
other. 

These observations are, I think, just, and the e\ddence re- 
ferred to in them, real; though there may be people who will 
not accept of such imperfect information from Scripture. Some 
too have not integritj^ and regard enough to truth, to attend 
to evidence, which keeps the mind in doubt, perhaps perplex- 
ity, and which is much of a different sort h'om what they expec- 
ted. And it plainly requires a degree of modest}^ and fairness, 
beyond what ever}" one has, for a man to say, not to the world, 
but to himself, that there is a real appearance of somewhat of 
great weight in this matter, though he is not able thoroughly 
to satisfy himself about it ; but it shall have its influence upon 
him, in proportion to its appearing reality and weight. It is 
much more easy, and more falls in with the negligence, pre- 
sumption, and wilfulness of the generality, to determine at 
once, with a decisive air, there is nothing in it. The preju- 
dices arising from that absolute contempt and scorn, with 
which this CA'idence is treated in the world, I do not mention. 

* It appears, that Porphyry did nothing worth mentioning in this way. 
For Jerome on the place says : Duas posteHores bestias — in nno Macedo' 
nvm regno jionit. And as to the ten kings: Decern reges enumerat, qui 
fuerunt scevissimi: ipsosque reges non unius ponit regni^ verbi gratia, Mace^ 
do7iicE, Syn(t, Asias,, et Egypti ; sed de diversis regnis unum efficit regum 
ordinem. And in this way of interpretation, any thing may be made of 
any thing. 



GIIAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



303 



For what indeed can be said to persons, who are weak enough 
in their understandings to think this any presumption against 
it ; or, if thej do not, are yet weak enough in their temper 
to* be influenced by such prejudices, upon such a subject ? 

I shall row, secondly ^ endeavour to give some account of 
the general argument for the truth of Christianity, consisting 
both of the direct and circumstantial evidence, considered as 
making up one argument. Indeed, to state and examine this 
argument fully, would be a work much beyond the compass 
of this whole Treatise ; nor is so much as a proper abridg- 
ment of it to be expected here. Yet the present subject re- 
quires to have some brief account of it given. For it is the 
kind of evidence upon which most questions of difficulty, in 
common practice, are determined ; evidence a.rising from va- 
rious coincidences, which support and confirm each other, and 
in this manner prove, with more or less certaint}^, the point 
under consideration. And I choose to do it also, ^^rsf. Be- 
cause it seems to be of the greatest importance, and not duly 
attended to by every one, that the proof of revelation is, not 
some direct and express things onlj^ but a great variety of 
circumstantial things also ; and that though each of these 
direct and circumstantial things is indeed to be considered 
separately, yet they are afterwards to be joined together ; for 
that the proper force of the evidence consists in the results of 
those several things, considered in their respects to each 
other, and united into one view ; and, in the next place, Be- 
cause it seems to me, that the matters of fact here set dovvn, 
which are acknowledged hy unbelievers, must be acknow- 
ledged by them also to contain together a degree of evidence 
of great weight, if they could be brought to lay these several 
things before themselves distincth' , and then with attention 
consider them together ; instead of that cursory thought of 
them, to which we are familiarized. For being familiarized 
to the cursory thought of things, as really hinders the weight 
of them from being seen, as from having its due influence 
upon practice. 

The thing asserted, and the truth of which is to be in- 
quired into, is this : that over and above our reason and affec- 
tions, which God has given us for the information of oiar judg- 
ment and conduct of our Hves, he has also, by external reve- 
lation, given us an account of himself and his moral govern- 
ment over the world, implying a future state of rewards and 
punishments ; i, e. hath revealed the system of natural reli 



304 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II. 



gion ; for natural religion may be externally* revealed by 
God, as the ignorant may be taught it by mankind, their fel- 
low creatures — that God, I say, has given us the evidence of 
revelation, as well as the evidence of reason, to ascertain this 
moral system ; together with an account of a particular dis- 
pensation of Providence, which reason could no way have 
discovered, and a particular institution of religion founded on 
it, for the recovery of mankind out of their present wretched 
condition, and raising them, to the perfection and final happi- 
ness of their nature. 

This revelation, whether real or supposed, may be consid- 
ered as wholty historical. For prophecy is nothing but the 
history of events before they come to pass : doctrines also are 
matters of fact ; and precepts come under the same notion. 
And the general design of Scripture, which contains in it this 
revelation, thus considered as historical, may be said to be, to 
give us an account of the Vv^orld, in this one single view, as 
God's world ; by which it appears essentially distinguished 
from all other books, so far as I have foimd, except such as 
are copied from it. It begins with an account of God's crea- 
tion of the v/orld, in order to ascertain and distinguish from a]l 
others, who is the object of our v/orship, by what he has done ; 
in order to ascertain who he is, concerning whose providence, 
commands, promises, and threatenings, this sacred book all 
along treats ; the Maker and Proprietor of the world, he whose 
creatures we are, the God of nature : in order likewise to dis- 
tinguish him from the idols of the nations, which are either im- 
aginary beings, i. e. no beings at all ; or else part of that crea- 
tion, the historical relation of which is here given. And St 
John, not improbably with an eye to this Mosaic account of 
the creation, begins his gospel with an account of our Sa- 
viour's pre-existencc. and that, ' all things were made by him, 
and without him was not an}^ thing made that was made ;'t 
agreeably to the doctrine of St Paul," that ' God created all 
things by Jesus Christ.' J This being premiised, the Scripture, 
taken together, seems to profess to contain a kind of an abridg- 
ment of the history of the world, in the view just now men- 
tioned ; that is, a general account of the condition of religion 
and its professors, during the continuance of that apostacy 
from God, and state of wickedness, which it every where 
supposes the world to lie in. And this account of the state 
of religion carries with it some brief account of the political 



* Page 162, &c. 



t Johni. 3, JEph. 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



305 



state of things, as religion is affected hy it. Revelation in- 
deed considers the common affairs of this world, and what is 
going on in it, as a m_ere scene of distraction, and cannot bo 
supposed to concern itself with foretelling at what time Rome, 
or Babylon, or Greece, or any particular place, should be the 
most conspicuous seat of that tyranny and dissoluteness, 
which all places equally aspire to be ; cannot. I say, be sup- 
posed to give any account of this wild scene for its own sake. 
But it seems to contain some very general account of ..the 
chief governments of the world, as the general state of reli- 
gion has been, is, or shall be, affected by them, from the first 
transgression and during the whole interval of the world's 
continuing in its present state, to a certain future period, 
spoken of both in the Old and New Testament, very dis 
tinctly, and in great variety of expression : ' The times of the 
restitution of all things when ' the mystery of God shall 
be .^nished, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets ;'| 
when ' the God of heaven shall set up a kingdom, which 
shall never be destroyed ; and the kingdom shall not be left 
to other people,'J as it is represented to be during this apos- 
tacy, but 'judgment shall be given to the saints,'§ and ' they 
shall reign ;'|| ' and the Iringdom and dominion, and the great- 
ness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given 
to the people of the saints of the Most High. "IF 

Upon this general viev/ of the Scripture, I would remark 
how great a length of time the whole relation takes up, near 
six thousand years of which are past : and how great a va- 
riety of things it treats of ; the natural and moral system or 
history of the world, including the time when it was formed, 
all contained in the very first book, and evidently written in a 
rude and unlearned age ; and in subsequent books, the vari- 
ous common and prophetic history, and the particular dispen- 
sation of Christianity. Now all this together gives the 
largest scope for criticism ; and for confutation of what is ca- 
pable of being confuted, either from reason, or from common 
history, or fi-om any inconsistence in its several parts. And 
it is a thing which deserves, I think, to be mentioned, that 
whereas some imagine, the supposed doubtfulness of the evi- 
dence for revelation implies a positive argument that it is not 
true ; it appears, on the contrary, to imply a positive argu- 
ment that it is true. For, could any common relation of such 

* Acts iii. 21 . t Rev. x. 7. X Dan. ii. § Dan. vii. 22. 

\ )t Rev. xi. 17, 13, ch. xx. IF Dan. vii. 



306 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [ PART II. 



antiquity, extentj and variety, (for in these things the stress 
of what I am now observing lies,) be proposed to the examina- 
tion of the world ; that it could not, in an age of knowledge 
and libert}^, be confuted, or shown to have nothing in it, to the 
satisfaction of reasonable men ; this would be thought a 
I strong presumptive proof of its truth. And indeed it must be 

a proof of it just in proportion to the probabihty, that if it were 
false, it might be shown to be so ; and this, I think, is scarce 
pretended to be shown but upon principles and in ways of 
arguing which have been clearly obviated.* Nor does it at 
all appear, that any sect of men who believe natural religion, 
arc of the opinion, that Christianity has been thus confuted. 
But to proceed : 

Together with the moral system of the w^orld, the Old Tes 
lament contains a chronological account of the beginning of 
it, and from thence, an unbroken genealogy of mankind for 
many ages before common history begins ; and carried on as 
much farther, as to make up a continued thread of history of 
the length of between three and four thousand years. It con- 
tains an account of God's making a covenant with a particu- 
lar nation, that they should be his people, and he would be their 
God, in a peculiar sense ; of his often interposing miraculously 
in their affairs ; giving them the promise, and, long after, the 
possession, of a particular country ; assuring them of the 
greatest national prosperity in it, if they would worship him, 
in opposition to the idols which the rest of the world worship- 
ped, and obey his commands ; and threatening them with un- 
exampled punishments, if they disobeyed him, and fell into the 
general idolatry : insomuch, that this one nation should con- 
tinue to be the observation and the wonder of all the world. 
It declares particularly, that " God would scatter them among 
all people, from one end of the earth unto the other f but. 
^' when they should return unto the Lord their God, he would 
have compassion upon them, and gather them, from all the 
nations wliither he had scattered them that "Israel should 
be saved in the Lord, with an everlasting salvation, and not ba 
ashamed or confounded, world without end." And as some 
of these promises are conditional, others are as absolute as 
any thing can be expressed, that the time should come, when 
the people should be all righteous, and inherit the land for- 
ever that though God would make a full end of all na- 
tions whither he had scattered them, yet w^ould he not make 

* Chap. 2, 3, &c. 

I 



CHAP. UJ.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



307 



a full end of them that he would hx'mg agam the captivity 
of his people Israel, and plant them iipon their land, and they 
should be no more pulled up out of their land :" that " the 
seed of Israel should not cease from being a nation forever."* 
It foretells, that Gcd would raise them up a particular person, 
in whom all his promises should be fulfilled ; the Messiah, 
who should be, in a high and eminent sense, their anointed 
Prince and Saviour. This was foretold in such a manner, as 
raised a general expectation of such a person in the nation, as 
appears from the New Testament, and is an acknowledged 
fact ; an expectation of his coming at such a particular time, 
before any one appeared, claiming to be that person, and 
where there was no ground for such an expectation but from 
the prophecies ; which expectation, therefore, must in all rea- 
son be presumed to be explanatory to those prophecies, if 
there v/ere any doubt about their meaning. It seems more- 
over to foretell, that this person should be rejected by that na- 
tion, to whom he had been so long promised, and though he 
was so much desired by them.t And it expressly foretells, 
that he should be the Saviour of the Gentiles : and even that 
the completion of the scheme, contained in this book, and 
then begun, and in its progress, should be somewhat so great, 
that, in comparison with it, the restoration of the Jews alone 
would be but of small account. ' It is a light thing that thou 
shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to 
restore the preserved of Israel : I will also give thee for a light 
to the Gentiles, that thou maj^est be for salvation unto the 
end of the earth.' And, ' In the last days, the mountain of 
the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the moun- 
tains, and shall be exalted above the hills ; and all nations 
shall flow into it — for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and 
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge 
among the nations — and the Lord alone shall be exalted in 
that day, and the idols he shall utterly abolish.' J The Scrip- 
ture farther contains an account, that at the time the Messiah 
was expected, a person rose up, in this nation, claiming to be 
that Messiah, to be the person whom all the prophecies 

* Dent, xxxiii. 64. Ch. xxx. 2, 3. Isa. xIy. 17. Ch. Ix. 21. Jer. 
XXX. 11. Ch. Ixvi. 28. Amos ix. 15. Jer. xxxi. 36. 

t Isa.viii 14, 15. Ch. xlLx. 5. Ch. liii. Mali. 10, ll.andCh. iii. 

X Isa. xlix. 6. Cli. ii. Ch. xi. Ch. ivi. 7. Mai. i. 1 1 . — To which must 
be added, the other prophecies of the like kind, several in the New Testa- 
men (, and very many in the Old, which describe what shall be the eom- 
pletj jn of the revealed plan of Pi-ovidence. 



OF TUT. PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II 



refen-ed to, and in whom they should centre ; that he spent 
some years in a continued course of miraculous works, and 
endued his immediate disciples and followers w^ith a power of 
doing the sam.e, as a proof of the truth of thai religion which i 
he commissioned them to publish ; that, invested with this | 
aulhorit}' and power, thev made numerous converts in the 
remotest countries, and settled and established his religion in 
the world : to the end of which, the Scripture professes to 
give a prophetic account of the state of this religion amongst 
mankind. 

Let us now suppose a person utterlj^ ignorant of histor}', to 
have all this related to 'him, out of the Scriptures. Or, sup- 
pose such a one, having the Scriptures put into his hands, to 
remark these things in it, not knowing but that the whole, 
even its civil historj^, as well as the other parts of it, might 
be, from beginning to end, an entire invention ; and to ask, 
What truth was in it, and whether the revelation here related 
was real or a fiction ? And, instead of a direct answer, sup- 
pose him, all at once, to be told the following confessed facts ; 
and then to unite them into one view. 

Let him first be told, in how great a degree the profession 
and establishment of natural religion, the behef that there is 
one God to be worshipped, that virtue is liis law, and that . 
mankind shall be rewarded and punished hereafter, as they 
obey and disobey it here ; in how very great a degree, I say, 
the profession and establishment of this moral system in the 
world, is owing to the revelation, whether real or supposed, 
contained in this book ; the establishment of this moral sys- 
tem, even in those countries which do not acknowledge the 
proper authorit}^ of the Scripture.* Let him be told also, 
what number of nations do acknowledge its proper authority. 
Let him then take in consideration, of what importance reli- 
gion is to mankind. And upon these things, he might, I 
think, truly observe, that this supposed revelation's obtaining 
and being received in the world, with all the circumstances 
and effects of it, considered together as one event, is the most 
conspicuous and im.portant event in the story of mankind : 
that a book of this nature, and thus promulged and recom- 
mended to our consideration, demands, as if b}^ a voice from 
heaven, to have its claims most seriously examined into ; and 
that, before such examination, to treat it with any kind of 
Bcofiing and ridicule, is an offence against natural piety. But 



* Page 155. 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



3C9 



it is to be rememberedj that how much soever the establish- 
ment of natural religion in the world is owing to the Scrip- 
ture revelation, this does not destroy the proof of rehgion from 
reason, any more than the proof of Eiiclid^s Elements is de- 
stroyed, by a man's kno^ving or thinking that he should 
never have seen the truth of the several propositions contamed 
in it, nor had those propositions come into his thoughts, but 
for that mathematician. 

Let such a person as we are speaking of, be, in the next 
place, informed of the acknowledged antiquity of the first 
parts of this book : and that its chronology, its account of the 
time when the earth, and the several parts of it, were first 
peopled with human creatures, is no way contradicted, but is 
really confirmed, by the natural and civil history of the 
world, collected from common historians, from the state of the 
earth, and the late invention of arts and sciences. And, as 
the Scripture contains an unbroken thread of common and 
civil history, from the creation to the capti\it3', for between 
three and four thousand years ; let the person we are speak- 
ing of be told, in the next place, that this general history, as 
it is not contradicted, but is confirmed by profane historj^, as 
much as there would be reason to expect, upon supposition 
of its truth ; so there is nothing in the whole history itself, to 
give any reasonable ground of suspicion, of its not being, in 
the general, a faithful and literally true genealogy of men, 
and series of things. I speak here onh^ of the common 
Scripture history, or of the course of ordinarj^- events related 
in it, as distinguished from miracles, and from the prophetic 
history. In all the Scripture narrations of this kind, following 
events arise out of foregoing ones, as in all other histories. 
There appears nothing related as done m any age, not con- 
formable to the manners of that age ; nothing in the account 
of a succeeding age, which, one would say, could not be tr.:e. 
or was improbable, from the account of things in the preced- 
ing one. There is nothing in the characters, which would 
raise a thought of their being feigned ; but all the internal 
marks imagina,ble of their being real. It is to be added also, 
that mere genealogies, bare narratives of the number of j^ears 
which persons called by such and such names Hved, do not 
carry the face of fiction ; perhaps do carry som.e presumption 
of veracity ; and all unadorned narratives, which have nothing 
to surprise, may be thought to carry somewhat of the like 
presumption too. And the domestic and the political history 
is plainly credible. There may be incidents in Scripture, 



310 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE 



[part II. 



which, taken alone in the naked way they are told, may ap- 
pear strange, especially to persons of other manners, tem- 
per, education ; but there are also incidents of undoubted 
truth, in many or most persons' lives, which, in the samic cir- 
cumstances, would appear to the full as stange. There may 
be mistakes of transcribers, there may be other real or seeming 
rr.istakes, not eas}^ to be particularly accounted for ; but there 
are certainly no more things of this kind in the Scripture, 
than what were to have been exjjected in books of such an- 
tiquity ; and nothing, in any wise, sufficient to discredit the 
general narrative. Now, that a history, claiming to com- 
mence from the creation, and extending in one continued 
series, through so great a length of time, and variety of events, 
should have such appearances of realit}- and truth in its whole 
contexture, is surely a very remarkable circumstance in its 
favor. And as all this is applicable to the common history 
of the New Testament, so there is a farther credibilitj^^ a.nd 
a very high one, given to it hy profane authors ; many of 
these writing of the same times, and confirming the truth of 
custom.s and events, which are incidentally, as well as more 
purposely mentioned in it. And this credibility of the com 
mon Scripture histor}^, gives some credibility to its miracu 
loLis history ; especially as this is interwoven with the com 
mon, so as that they imply each other, and both together 
make up one relation. 

Let it then be more particularly observed to this person, that 
it is an acknowledged matter of fact, which is indeed implied 
in the foregoing observation, that there was such a nation as 
the Jews, of the greatest antiquity, whose government and 
general polity was founded on the law, here related to be 
given them by Moses as from Heaven : that natural religion, 
though with rites additional, yet no way contrary to it, was 
their established religion, which cannot be said of the Gentile 
world ; p.nd that their very being, as a nation, depended upon 
their acknowledgment of one God, the God of the universe. 
For suppose, in their captivity in Babylon, they had gone over 
tc the religion of their conquerors, there would have remained 
no bond of union, to keep them a distinct people. And whilst 
they were mider their own kings, in their own countrj^, a to- 
tal apostacy from God would have been the dissolution of their 
whole government. Thej^ in such a sense nationally acknow- 
ledged and worshipped the Maker of heaven and earth, when 
the rest of the world were sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, 
in factj the peculiar people of God. And this so remarkable 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



311 



an establishment and preservation of natural religion amor gst 
ll?.em, seems to add some peculiar credibilitj^ to the historical 
evidence for the miracles of Moses and the prophets ; because 
these miracles are a full satisfactory account of this event, 
which plainly wants to be accounted for, and cannot other- 
wise. 

Let this person, supposed wholly ignorant of history, be 
acquainted farther, that one claiming to be the Messiah, of 
Jewish extraction, rose up at the time when this nation, from 
the prophecies above mentioned, expected the Messiah : that 
he was rejected, as it seemed to have been foretold he should, 
by the body of the people, under the direction of their rulers . 
that in the course of a very few years he was beheved on, 
and acknowledged as the promised Messiah, by great num- 
bers among the Gentiles, agreeably to the prophecies of Scrip- 
ture, yet not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles,* 
of which miiracles we also have strong historical evidence ; 
(by which I mean here no more than must be acknowledged 
by unbelievers ; for let pious frauds and follies be admitted to 
weaken, it is absurd to say they destroy, our evidence of 
miracles wrought in proof of Christianity that this religion 
approving itself to the reason of niankind, and carrying its own 
evidence with it, so far as reason is a judge of its system, and 
being no way contrary to reason in those parts of it which re- 
quire to be believed upon the mere authority of its Author ; 
that this religion, I say, gradually spread and supported itself, 
for some hundred years, not only vvithout any assistance from 
temporal power, but under constant discouragements, and often 
the bitterest persecutions from it, and then became the religion 
of the world ; that, in the mean time, the Jewish nation and go- 
vernment were destroyed in a very remarkable manner, and the 
people carried away captive and dispersed through the most 
distant countries ; in which state of dispersion they have re- 
mained fifteen hundred years ; and that they remain a num.e- 
rous people, united among themselves, and distinguished from 
the rest of the world, as they were in the days of Moses, by 
the profession of his law, and every where looked upon in a 
manner, which one scarce knows how distinctly to express, 
but in the words of the prophetic account of it, given so many 
ages before it came to pass : ' Thou shalt become an astonish- 
ment, a proverb, and a byword, among all nations whither the 
Lord shall lead thee.' J 



* Page 23^, &c. 



t Page 243, &c. 



1 Deut. xxviii. 37 



312 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART li 

The appearance of a standing niiracle, in the Jews remain- 
ing a distinct people in their dispositions, and the confmnation 
which tliis event appears to give to the truth of re^'elation, 
may be thought to be answered, bv their religion forbidding 
them intermarriages with those of any other, and presciibing 
them a great many peculiarities in their food, by which they 
are debarred from the means of incorporating with the people 
III whose countries thej^ live. Tiiis is not, I think, a satisfac- 
tory account of that which it pretends to accomrt for. But 
what does it pretend to account for ? The coiTespondence be- 
tween this event and the prophecies ; or the comcidence of 
both with a long dispensation of Providence, of a peculiar na- 
ture, towards that people forrnerl}^ ? No. It is only the event 
itself which is offered to be thus accounted for : which single 
event taken alone, abstracted from aU such correspondence 
and coincidence, perhaps would not have appeared miracu- 
loue ; but that correspondence and coincidence may be so, 
though the event itself be supposed not. Thus the concur- 
rence of oin* Saviour's being born at Bethlehem, with a long 
foregoing series of prophecj^ and other coincidences, is doubt- 
less miraculous, the series of prophecy, and other coinci- 
dences, and the event, being admitted ; though the event itself, 
his birth at that place, appears to have been brought about 
m a natural way : of which, hovrever, no one can be certain 

And as several of these events seem, in some degree, ex- 
pressly, to have verified the prophetic history aireadj^ ; so 
likewise they may be considered farther, as having a peculiar 
aspect towards the full completion of it ; as affording some 
presumption that the whole of it shall, one time or other, be 
fulfilled. Thus, that the Jews have been so wondeifulh- pre- 
served in their long and wide dispersion ; which is indeed the 
direct fulfilling of some prophecies, but is now mentioned only 
as looking forward to somewhat yet to come : that natural 
religion came forth fi'om Judea. and spread in the degree it 
he^ done over the world, before lost in idolatry ; which, to- 
gether with some other things, have distinguished that very 
place, in like manner as the people of it are distinguished . 
that this great change of religion over the earth, was brought 
about under the profession and acknowledgment, that Jesus 
was the promised Messiah : things of this kind naturally turn 
the thoughts of serious men towards the full completion of 
the prophetic liistory, concerning the final restoration of that 
people ; concerning the estabhshment of the everlasting king- 
dom among them, the kingdom of the Messiah ; and the 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



313 



future state of the world, under this sacred government. Such 
circumstances and events compared with these prophecies, 
though no com.pletions of them, jet would not, I thinkj be 
spoken of as nothing in the argument, by a person upon his 
first being informed of them. Thev fall in wich the prophetic 
history of things still future, give it some additional credibility, 
have the appearance of being somewhat in order to the full 
completion of it. 

Indeed it requires a good degree of knowledge, and great 
calmness and consideration, to be able to judge, thoroughly, of 
the evidence for the truth of Christianity, from that part of 
the prophetic history vrhich relates to the situation of the 
kingdoms of the world, and to the state of the church, from 
the establishment of Christianity to the present time. But it 
appears from a general view of it, to be very material. And 
those persons who have thoroughly examined it, and some of 
them were men of the coolest tempers, greatest capacities, 
and least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist upon it as 
determinate!}'' conclusive. 

Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, first to re- 
collect the passages above mentioned out of Scripture, without 
knowig but that the whole was a late fiction, then to be in- 
formed of the correspondent facts now mentioned, and to unite 
them all into one vievv^ : that the profession and establishment 
of natural religion in the world, is greatty owing, in difierent 
ways, to this book, and the supposed revelation which it con- 
tains ; that it is acknowdedged to be of the earliest antiquity ; 
that its chronology and comm.on history are entirely credible ; 
that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chiefly treats, 
appear to have been, in fact, the people of God, in a distin- 
guished sense ; that as there was a national expectation 
amongst them, raised from the prophecies, of a Messiah to 
appear at such a time, so one at thus time appeared, claiming 
to be that Messiah ; that he was rejected by this nation^ but 
received hy the Gentiles, not upon the evidence of prophecjj 
but of miracles : that the religion he taught supported itself 
under the greatest difiiculties, gained gromid, and at length 
became the religion of the world : that in the mean time the 
Jewish polity was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed 
over the face of the earth : that notwithstanding this, they 
have remained a distinct numerous people for so many centu- 
ries, even to this day ; which not only appears to be the ex- 
press completion of several prophecies concerning them ; but 
also renders it, as one may speak, a visible and easy possi- 



314 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE 



[part 11. 



bilit}^, that the promises made to them as a natioiij maj yet 
be fulfilled. And to these acknowledged truths, let the per- 
son we have been supposing add, as I think he ought, 
whether every one vviU allow it or no, the ob\ious appear- 
ances which there are, of the state of the world, in other re- 
spects besides what relates to the Jews^ and of the Christian 
church, havmg so long answered, and still answeiing to the 
prophetic history. Suppose, I say, these facts set over 
against the things before mentioned out of the Sciipture, and 
seriously compared with them; the joint \iew of both to- 
gether, must, I think, appear of very great weight to a con- 
siderate reasonable person: of much greater, indeed, upon 
ha\ing them fn'st laid before him, than is easy for us, who 
are so fairdliaiized to them, to conceive, without some particu- 
lar attention for that purpose. 

All these things, and the several particulars contained un- 
der them, require to be distinctly and most thoroughly ex- 
amined into ; that the weight of each ma^^ be judged of, upon 
such examination, and such conclusion drawn as results from 
their united force. But this has not been attempted here. I 
have gone no farther than to show, that the general impeifect 
view of them now given, the confessed historical eddence for 
miracles, and the many obvious appearing completions of 
prophecy, together with the collateral things^ here men- 
tioned, and there are several others of the like sort ; that all 
this together, which, being fact, must be acknowledged by 
unbelievers, amounts to real evidence of somewhat more than 
human in this matter : e^-idence much more important, than 
careless men, who have been accustomed only to transient 
and partial \iews of it, can imagine ; and indeed abundantly 
sufficient to act upon. And these things, I apprehend, must 
be acknowledged by unbelievers. For though they may say, 
that the liistorical evidence of miracles, wrought in attesta- 
tion of Clmstianity, is not sufficient to convince them that 
such miracles were realh' wrought ; they cannot deny, that 
there is such historical evidence, it being a known matter of 
fact that there is. They may saj^, the conformity between 
the prophecies and events, is by accident ; but there are many 
instances in which such conformit}'' itself cannot be denied. 
They may say, with regard to such kind of collateral things 
£LS those above mentioned, that any odd accidental events, 

* All the particular things mentioned in this chapter, not reducible to 
the head of certain miracles, or deteniiinate completions of prophecy. 
See pages 234, 235. 



CHAP. VII.] 



FOR CHRISTIANITY. 



315 



without meaning, will have a meaning found in them hy fan- 
ciful people ; and that such as are fanciful in any one certain 
way, will make out a thousand coincidents, which seem to 
favor their peculiar follies. iMen, I say, may talk thus ; but 
no one who is serious, can possibly think these things to be 
nothing, if he considers the importance of collateral things, 
and even of lesser circumstances, in the evidence of proba- 
bility, as distinguished, in nature, from the evidence of demon- 
stration. In many cases, indeed, it seems to requii'e the 
truest judgment, to determine with exactness the weight of 
circumstantial evidence ; but it is very often altogether as 
comdncing, as that which is the most express and direct. 

This general ^dew of the evidence for Christianity, con- 
sidered as making one argument, may also serve to recom- 
mend to serious persons, to set down every thing which they 
think may be of any real vreight at all in proof of it, and par- 
ticularly the many seeming completions of prophecy; and 
they wUl find, that, judging by the natm*al rules, hy which 
we judge of probable evidence in common matters, they 
amount to a much higher degree of proof, upon such a joint 
review, than could be supposed upon considering them sepa- 
rately, at different times ; how strong soever the proof might 
before appear to them, upon such separate ^dews of it. For 
probable proofs, by being added, not only increase the e\d- 
dence, but multiply it. Nor should I dissuade any one from 
setting down what he thought made for the contrary side. 
But then it is to be remembered, not in order to influence his 
judgment, but his practice, that a mistake on one side, may 
be, in its consequences, much more dangerous than a mistake 
on the other. And what course is most safe, and what most 
dangerous, is a consideration thought very material, when we 
deliberate, not concerning events, but concerning conduct in 
our temporal affairs. To be influenced by this consideration 
in our judgment, to believe or disbelieve upon it, is indeed as 
much prejudice, as an}' thing whatever. And, like other 
prejudices, it operates contrary Vv'ays in different men. For 
some are inclined to believe what they hope ; and others, 
what they fear. And it is manifest unreasonableness, to 
apply to men's passions in order to gain their assent. But 
in deliberations concerning conduct, there is nothmg which 
reason more requires to be taken into the account, than the 
importance of it. For, suppose it doubtful, what would be 
the consequence of acting in this, or in a contrary manner ; 
still, that taking one side could be attended with Httle or no 



OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE, &C. [PART 11, 



bad consequence, and taking the other might be attended 
with the greatest, must appear, to unprejudiced reason, of the 
highest moment towards determining how we are to act. But 
the truth of our religion, like the truth of common matters, is 
to be judged of hy all the evidence taken together. And unless 
the whole series of things which maybe alleged in this argu- 
ment, and every particular thing in it, can reasonably be sup- 
posed to have been by accident, (for here the stress of the argu- 
ment for Christianity lies,) then is the truth of it proved : in like 
manner as if, in 3.ny common case, numerous events acknow- 
ledged, were to be alleged in proof of any other event dis- 
puted ; the proof of the disputed event would be proved, not 
only if any one of the acknowledged ones did of itself clearly 
imply it, but, though no one of them singly did so, if the 
whole of the acknowledged events taken together, could not 
in reason be supposed to have happened, unless the disputed 
one were true. 

It is ob\'ious, how much advantage the nature of this evi- 
dence gives to those persons who attack Christianitj^, espe- 
cially in conversation. For it is easy to sho^w, in a short and 
lively manner, that such and such things are liable to objec- 
tion, that this and another thing is of little weight in itself ; 
but impossible to show, in like manner, the imited force of 
the whole argument in one \iew. 

However, lastly, as it has been made appear, that there is 
no presumption against a revelation as miraculous ; that the 
general scheme of Christianity, and the principal parts of it, 
are conformable to the experienced constitution of things, and 
the whole perfectly credible ; so the accomit now given of the 
positive evidence for it, shows, that this evidence is snch, as, 
from the natui'e of it, cannot be destroyed, though it should 
be lessened. 



# 



CHAP. VIII.] 0BJECT10^-S AGAINST THE ANALOGY, &C. 317 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Of the Objections ichichmay be made against arguing from 

the Ancdogij of Nature to Religion, 

If every one Avoiild consider, with such attention as they 
are bound, even m point of moralitj', to consider, what they 
judge and give characters of, the occasion of this chapter 
would be, in some good measure at least, superseded. But 
since this is not to expected : for some v\'e fmd do not concern 
themselves to understand even what they write against : 
since this treatise, in common with most others, lies open to 
objections, which may appear very material to thoughtful men 
at first sight ; and, besides that, seems peculiarly liable to the 
cbjections of such as can judge vrithout thinking, and of such 
as can censure v%^ithout judging : it may not be amiss to set 
down the chief of these objections which occur to me, and con- 
sider them to their hands. And they are such as these : — 

That it is a poor thing to solve difficuhies in revelation, by 
saying, that there are the same in natural religion: when what 
is wanting is to clear both of them, of these their common, as 
well as other their respective, dimculties : but that it is a 
strange way indeed of convincing men of the obligations of re- 
ligion, to show them that they have as little reason for their 
Vv-orldl}^ pursuits : and a strange way of vindicating the justice 
and goodfiess of the Author of nature, and of removing the ob- 
jections against both, to which the sj'stem of religion lies open, 
to show, that the like objections lie against natural providence; 
a way of answering objections against religion, withou.t so 
much as pretending to make out, that the sj'stem of it, or the 
particular things in it objected against, are reasonable — espe- 
ciall}^, perhaps, some may be inattentive enough to add, must 
this be thought strange, when it is confessed that analogy is 

no answer to such objections : that when this sort of reason- 

2-^ 



318 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PART II. 

ing is carried to the utmost length it can be imagined capable 
ofj it will yet leave the mind in a very unsatisfied state ; and 
that it must be unaccomitable ignorance of mankind, to ima- 
gine they will be prevailed with to forego their present inter- 
ests and pleasures, from regard to religion, upon doubtful e\i- 
dence." 

Now, as plausible as this way of talking may appear, that 
appearance will be found in a great measure owing to half- 
views, which show but part of an object, yet show that indis- 
tinctly ; and to undeterminate language. By these means 
weak men are often deceived by others, and ludicrous men by 
themselves. And even those who are serious and considerate 
cannot always readily disentangle, and at once clearly see 
through the perplexities in which subjects themselves are in- 
volved ; and w^hich are heightened by the deficiencies and the 
abuse of words. To this latter sort of persons, the following 
reply to each part of this objection severally, may be of some 
assistance ; as it may also tend a Httle to stop and silence 
others. 

First^ The thing wanted, i. e. what men require, is to have 
all difficulties cleared. And this is, or, at least for any thing we 
know to the contrary, it may be, the same, as requiring to com- 
prehend the divine nature, and the whole plan of Providence 
from everlasting. But it hath always been allowed to argue, 
from what is acknowledged to what is disputed. And it is in 
no other sense a poor thing, to argue from natural rehgion to re- 
vealed, in the manner found fault with, than it is to argue in 
numberless other ways of probable deduction and inference, 
in matters of conduct, which we are continually reduced to the 
necessity of doing. Indeed the epithet poor may be applied, 
1 fear, as properly to great part, or the whole, of human life, as 
it is to the things mentioned in 1 he objection. Is it not a poor 
thing, for a phj^sician to have so little knowledge in the cure of 
diseases, as even the most eminent have ? To act upon con- 
jecture and guess, where the life of man is concerned ? Un- 
doubtedly it is : but not in comparison of having no skill at 
all in that useful art, and being obliged to act wholly in the 
dark. 

Further : Since it is as unreasonable as it is common, to 
in*ge objections against revelation, which are of equal weight 
against natural religion ; and those v/ho do this, if they are not 
confuted themselves, deal unfairly with others, in making it 
seem that they are arguing only against revelation, or particu- 
lar doctrines of it, when in reality they are arguing against 



CHAP. VlJI.j OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 



319 



moral providence ; it is a thing of consequence to show, thaw 
such objections are as much levelled against natural religion, 
as against revealed. And objections, which are equally ap- 
plicable to both, are, properly speaking, answered, by its 
being shovm that they are so, provided the former be admitted 
to be true. And without taking in the consideration how 
distinctly this is admitted, it is plainly very material to ob- 
serve, that as the things objected against in natural religion, 
are of the same kind with what is certain matter of experi- 
ence in the course of providence, and in the information which 
God affords us concerning our temporal interest under his go- 
vernment ; so the objections against the system of Christi- 
anity and the evidence of it, are of the very same kind with 
those which are made against the system and evidence of 
natural rehgion. However, the reader upon review may see, 
that most of the analogies insisted upon, even in the latter 
part of this treatise, do not necessarily require to have more 
taken for granted than is in the former ; that there is an Au- 
thor of nature, or natm'al Governor of the world ; and Chris- 
tianity is vindicated, not from its analogy to natural religion, 
but chiefly, from its analogy to the experienced constitution 
of nature. 

Secondly J Religion is a practical thing, and consists in such 
a determinate course of life ; as being what, there is reason 
to think, is commcmded by the Author of nature, and will, 
upon the whole, be our happiness under his government. 
Now if men can be convinced that they have the like reason 
to believe this, as to believe that taking care of their tem^poral 
affairs will be to their advantage ; such conviction cannot 
but be an argument to thern for the practice of religion. And 
if there be really any reason for believing one of these, and 
endeavouring to preserve life, and secure ourselves the neces- 
saries and conveniences of it ; then there is reason also for 
beheving the other, and endeavouring to secure the interest it 
proposes to us. And if the interest which religion proposes 
to us ba infinitely greater than our whole temporal interest, 
then there must be proportionably greater reason for endea- 
vouring to secure one, than the other : since by the supposi- 
tion, the probability of our securing one, is equal to the pro- 
bability of our securing the other. This seems plainly unan- 
swerable ; and has a tendency to influence fair minds, who 
consider what our condition really is, or upon what e^ddence 
we are naturally appointed to act ; and who are disposed to 
acqriiesce in the terms upon which we live, and atteiid to and 



320 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PAP.T li 

foliow that practical mstructiorij whatever it be, which is 
afforded us. 

But the chief and proper force of the argument referred to 
in the objection, hes in another place. For it is said, that the 
proof of religion is involved in such inextricable difficulties, as 
tc render it doubtful ; and that it cannot be supposed, that if 
it were true, it would be left upon doubtful evidence. Here, 
then, over and above the force of each particular difficulty or 
objection, these difficulties and objections, taken together, are 
turned into a positive argument against the truth of religion ; 
which argument would stand thus. If religion were true, it 
would not be left doubtful, and open to objections to the de- 
gree in which it is ; therefore, that it is thus left, not only ren- 
ders the evidence of it weak, and lessens its force, in propor- 
tion to the weight of such objections ; but also shows it to be 
false, or is a general presumption of its being so. Now the 
observation, that from the natural constitution and course of 
things, we must in our temporal concerns, almost continually, 
and in matters of great conseqaence, act upon evidence of a 
like kind and degree to the evidence of religion, is an answer 
to this argument ; because it shows, that it is according to 
the conduct and character of the Author of nature to appoint 
we should act upon evidence like to that, which this argu- 
ment presumes he cannot be supposed to appoint we should 
act upon : it is an instance, a general one made up of nu- 
merous particular ones, of somew^hat in his dealing with us, 
similar to what is said to be incredible. And as the force of 
this answer lies merely in the parallel Vvhich there is between 
the evidence for religion and for our temporal conduct ; the 
answer is equally just and conclusive, whether the parallel be 
made out, by showing the evidence of the former to be higher, 
or the evidence of the latter to be lower. 

Thirdly^ The design of this treatise is not to vindicate the 
character of God, but to show the obligations of men ; it is 
not to justify his providence, but to show what belongs to us 
to do. These are two subjects, and ought not to be con- 
founded. And though they may at length run up into each 
other, yet observations may immediately tend to make out 
the latter, which do not appear, by any immediate connexion, 
to the purpose of the former : which is less our concern than 
many seem to think. For, Ist^ It is not necessary we should 
justify the dispensations of Providence against objections, any 
farther than to show, that the things objected . against may 
for aught we know, be consistent with justice and goodness. 



CHAP. VIII.] 



OF X>fATURE TO RELIGIOr^. 



321 



Suppose, then, that there are things in the system of this 
world, and plan of Providence relating to it, which taken alone 
would be unjust ; yet it has been shown unanswerably, that 
if we could take in the reference which these things may 
have to other things present, past, and to come ; to the whole 
scheme, which the things objected against are parts of ; these 
very things mighty for aught we know, be found to 'be, ii0*i 
only consistent with justice, but instances of it. Indeed it has 
been shown, by the analogy of what we see, not only possi- 
ble that this may be the case, but credible that it is. And 
thus objections, drawn from such things, are answered, and 
]-*rovidence is vindicated, as far as religion makes its \indica- 
tion necessary. Hence it appears, 2d/?/, That objections 
against the divine justness and goodness are not endeavoured 
to be removed, by showing that the Hke objections, allowed 
to be really conclusive, he against natural providence : but 
those objections being supposed and shown not to be conclu- 
sive, the things objected against, considered as matters of 
fact, are farther shown to be credilDle, from their conformity to 
the constitution of nature ; for instance, that' God will reward 
and punish men for their actions hereafter, from the observa- 
tion that he does reward and punish them for their actions 
here. And this, I apprehend, is of weight. And I add, Sdly^ 
It would be of weight, even though those objections were not 
answered. For, there being the proof of rehgion above set 
down, and religion impljdng several facts ; for instance, again, 
the fact last mentioned, that God will reward and punish men 
for their actions hereafter ; the observation that his present 
method of government is by rewards and punishments, shows 
that future fact not to be incredible ; whatever objections men 
may think they have against it, as unjust or unmerciful, ac- 
cording to their notions of justice and m.ercy ; or as improba- 
ble from their belief of necessity. I say, as improhahle ; for 
it is evident no objection against it, as unjust^ can be urg(^d 
fi'orn necessity ; since this notion as much destroys injustice, 
as it does justice. Then, Though objections against 

the reasonableness of the system of religion, cannot indeed be 
answered without entering into a consideration of its reasona- 
bleness, yet objections against the credibihty or truth of it 
may. Because the system of it is reducible into what is pro- 
perly matter of fact ; and the truth, the probable truth, of facts, 
may be shown without consideration of their reasonableness. 
Nor is it necessary, though, in some cases and respects, it is 
highly useful and proper, yet it is not necessary, to give a proof 



322 



OBJECTIONS AGAilSST THE ANALOGY [PART II. 



of the reasonableness of every precept enjoined us, and of 
every particular dispensation of Providence, which comes into 
the system of religion. Indeed the more thoroughly a person 
of a right disposition is convinced of the perfection of the divine 
nature and conductj the farther he will advance towards that 
perfection of religion, which St John speaks of But the 
general obligations of religion are fullj^ made out, by proving 
the reasonableness of the practice of it. And that the prac- 
tice of religion is reasonable, may be shown, though no more 
could be proved, than that the system of it maij be 50, for 
aught we know to the contrary ; and even without entering 
into the distinct consideration of this. And from hence, dthlifj 
It is easy to see, that though the analogy of nature is not an 
immediate answer to objections against the wisdom, the jus- 
tice, or goodness, of any doctrine or precept of religion ; yet 
it may be, as it is, an imniediate and direct answer to what is 
really intended by such objections ; which is, to show that 
the things objected against are incredible. 

Fourthly^ It is most readily acknowledged, that the fore- 
going Treatise is by no means satisfactory ; very far indeed 
from it : but so would any natural institution of life appear, if 
reduced into a sj'stem, together with its evidence. Leav- 
ing religion out of the case, men are divided in their opinions, 
whether our pleasures over-balance our pains ; and whether 
it be, or be not, eligible to live in this v>^orld. And were all 
such controversies settled, which, perhaps, in speculation 
would be found involved in great difficulties ; and were it de- 
termined, upon the evidence of reason, as nature has deter- 
mined it to our hands, that life is to be preserved ; yet still, 
the rules which God has been pleased to afford us, for escap- 
ing the miseries of it, and obtaining its satisfactions, the rTiles, 
for instance, of preserving health and recovering it when lost, 
are not only fallible, and precarious, but very far from being 
exact. Nor are we informed by nature, in future contin- 
gencies and accidents, so as to render it at all certain, what is 
the best method of managing our affairs. What will be the 
success of our temporal pursuits, in the common sense of the 
word success^ is highty doubtful. And what will be the suc- 
cess of them, in the proper sense of the word ; i. e. what hap- 
piness or enjoyment we shall obtain by them, is doubtful in a 
much higher degree. Indeed, the unsatisfactory nature of 
the evidence, with which we are obliged to take up, in the 

* 1 Jolm iv. 18. 



CHAP. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 



323 



daily course of life, is scarce to be expressed. Yet men do 
not throw away life, or disregard the interests of it, upon ac- 
count of this doubtfulness. The evidence of religion then 
being admitted real, those who object against it, as not satis- 
factory, i. e. as not being what they w^ish it, plainly forget 
the very condition of our being ; for satisfaction, in this sense, 
does not belong to such a creature as man. And, which is 
more material, they forget also the very nature of religion. 
For, religion presupposes, in all those who will embrace it, a 
certain degree of integrity and honesty ; which it was in- 
tended to try whether men have or not, and to exercise in 
such as have it, in order to its improvement. Religion pre- 
supposes this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking to 
a man presupposes he understands the language in which 
you speak ; or as warning a man of any danger, presupposes 
that he has such a regard to himself, as that he will endeavour 
to avoid it. And therefore the question is not at all, Whether 
the evidence of religion be satisfactory ? but. Whether it be, 
in reason, sufficient to prove and discipline that virtue which 
it presupposes ? Now, the evidence of it is fully sufficient for 
all those purposes of probation ; how far soever it is from 
being satisfactory, as to the purposes of curiosity, or any 
other : and indeed it answers the purposes of the former in 
several respects, which it would not do, if it were as over- 
bearing as is required. One might add farther, that whether 
the motives, or the evidence for any course of actions, be satis- 
factory, meaning here by that word, what satisfies a man, 
that such a course of action will in event be for his good ; 
this need never be, and I think, strictly speaking, never is, 
the practical question in common matters. But the practical 
question in all cases, is, Whether the evidence for a course of 
action be such, as, taking in all circumstances, makes the 
faculty within us, which is the guide and judge of conduct,* 
determine that course of action to be prudent 1 Indeed, satis- 
faction that it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly 
determines an action to be prudent ; but e\idence, almost ir^ 
finitely lower than this, determines actions to be so too, even 
in the conduct of every day. 

Fifthly^ As to the objection concerning the influence which 
this argument, or any part of it, may, or ma}^ not, be expected 
to have upon men, I observe, as above, that religion being in- 
tended for a trial and exercise of the morality of every person's 



* See Dissertation 2. 



324 



OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PART 21 



character, who is a subject of it ; and there being, as I have 
shown, such evidence for it, as is sufficient, in reason, to influ- 
ence men to embrace it ; to object, that it is not to be ima- 
gined mankind will be influenced by such evidence, is nothing 
to the purpose of the foregoing Treatise. For the purpose of 
h is not to inquire, What sort of creatures mankind are ; but, 
W]:at the light and knowledge, which is afforded them, re- 
quires they should be ? to show how, in reason, they ought 
to behave ; not how, in fact, they will behave. This de- 
pends upon themselves, and is their own concern ; the per- 
sonal concern of each man in particular. And how little re- 
gard the generality have to it, experience, indeed, does too 
fully show. But religion, considered as a probation, has had 
its end upon all persons, to whom it has been proposed, with 
evidence sufficient in reason to influence their practice ; for 
by this means they have been put into a state of probation ; 
let them behave as they will in it. And thus, not only reve- 
lation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence of re- 
ligion being laid before men, the designs of Providence are 
carrying on, not only with regard to those who will, but like- 
wise with regard to those who will not, be influenced by it. 
However, lastly^ the objection here referred to, allows the 
things insisted upon in this Treatise to be of some weight ; 
and if so, it may be hoped it will have some influence. And 
if there be a probability that it will have any at all, there is 
the same reason in kind, though not in degree, to lay it before 
men, as there would be, if it were likely to have a greater in- 
fluence. 

. And farther, I desire it may be considered, with respect to the 
whole of the foregoing objections, that in this Treatise I have 
argued upon the principles of others,* not my own ; and have 
omitted what I think true, and of the most importance, because 
hy others thought unintelligible, or not true. Thus I have 
argued upon the principles of the Fatalists, which I do not 
beheve ; and have omitted a thing of the utmost importance, 
which I do believe, the moral fitness and unfitness of actions, 
prior to all will whatever ; which I apprehend as certainly to 
determine the divine conduct, as speculative truth and false- 
hood necessarily determine the divine judgment. Indeed 

* By arguing upon the principles of others, the reader will observe is 
meant, not provine^any tli'mg from those principles, but notwithstanding 
them. Thus religion is proved, not from the opinion of necessity, which 
is absurd, but notwithstanding or even though that opinion were admitted 
to be true. 



CHAP. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 325 

the principle of liberty, and that of moral fitness, so forcp 
themselves upon the mind, that moralists, the ancients as well 
as moderns, have fonried their language upon it. And probably 
it may appear in mine, though I have endeavoured to avoid it : 
and in order to avoid it, have sometimes been obliged to ex- 
press myself in a manner which will appear strange to such 
as do not observe the reason for it ; but the general argument 
here pursued does not at all suppose, or proceed upon, these 
principles. Now, these two abstract principles of liberty and 
moral fitness being omitted, religion can be considered in no 
other view than merely as a question of fact ; and in this view 
it is here considered. It is obvious, that Christianity, and the 
proof of it, are both historical. And even natural rehgion is, 
properly, a matter of fact. For, that there is a righteous 
Governor of the world, is so : and this proposition contains 
the general system of natural religion. But then, several ab- 
stract truths, and in particular those two principles, are 
usually taken into consideration in the proof of it ; whereas it 
is here treated of only as a matter of fact. To explain this : 
that the three angles of a triangle are equal to tAvo right ones, 
is ah abstract truth ; but that they appear so to our muid, is 
only a matter of fact. And this last must have been ad- 
mitted, if any thing was, by those ancient sceptics, who would 
not have admitted the former ; but pretend to doul3t, Whether 
there were anj^ such thing as truth : or, Whether we could 
certainly depend upon our faculties of understanding for the 
knowledge of it in any case. So likewise, that there is, in 
the nature of things, an original standard of right and wrong 
in actions, independent upon all will, but which unalterably 
determines the will of God, to exercise that m.oral government 
over the world which religion teaches, i. e. finally and upon 
the whole to reward and punish men respectively as they act 
right or wrong ; this assertion contains an abstract truth, as 
well as matter of fact. But suppose in the present state, 
every man, without exception, was rewarded and punished, 
in exact proportion as he followed or transgressed that sense 
of right' and wrong, which God has implanted m the nature 
of every man ; this would not be at all an abstract truth, but 
only a matter of fact. And though this fact were acknow- 
ledged by every one, yet the very same difficulties might be 
raised, as are now, concerning the abstract questions of liberty 
and moral fitness : and we should have a proof, even the cer- 
tain one of experience, that the government of the world was 
nerfectly moral, without taking in the consideration of those 

38 



326 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PAllT II, 

questions : and this proof \vould remain, in what way soever 
they were determined. And thus, God having given man- 
kind a moral faculty, the object of which is actions, and 
which naturally approves some actions as right and of good 
desert, and condemns others as wrong and of ill desert : that 
he will, finally and upon the whole, reward the former and 
punish the latter, is not an assertion of an abstract truth, but 
of what is as mere a fact as his doing so at present would be. 
This future fact I have not indeed proved with the force with 
which it might be proved, from the piinciples of liberty and 
moral fitness ; but without them have given a really conclu- 
sive practical proof of it, which is greatly strengthened by the 
general analogy of nature ; a proof easily cavilled at, easily 
shown not to be demonstrative, for it is not offered as such ; 
but impossible, I think, to be evaded or answered. And thus 
the obligations of religion are made out, exclusively of the 
questions concerning libert}^ and moral fitness ; which have 
been perplexed with difficulties and abstruse reasonings, as 
every thing may. 

Hence, therefore, maj^ be observed distinctly, what is the 
force of this Treatise. It will be, to such as are convmced 
of religion, upon the proof arising out of the two last men- 
tioned piinciples, an additional proof and a confirmation of it ; 
to such as do not admit those principles, an original proof of 
it,* and a confirmation of that proof. Those who believe, 
will here find the scheme of Christianity cleared of objections, 
and the evidence of it in a peculiar manner strengthened : 
those who do not believe, will at least be shown the absurdity 
of ail attempts to prove Christianity false, the plain imdoub ted 
credibility^ of it, and, I hope, a good deal more. 

And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think, that 
analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid upon it ; and 
ridicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be applied, to show the 
argument from it in a disadvantageous light : yet there can 
be no question, but that it is a real one. For religion, both 
natural and revealed, impljing in it numerous facts ; analogy 
being a confirmation of all facts to which it can be applied, 
as it is the only proof of most, cannot but be admitted by 
every one to be a material thing, and truly of weight on the 
side of religion, both natural and revealed; and it ought to 
be particularly regarded by such as profess to follow nature, 
and to be less satisfied with abstract reasonings. 



♦ Pages 139 140, &c. 



PART 11, I 



CONCLUSION, 



327 



CONCLUSION. 



Whatever account may be given, of the strange inatten- 
tion and disregardj in some ages and countrieSj to a matter of 
such importance as religion, it would, before experience, be 
incredible, that there should be the like disregard in those, 
who have had the m_oral system of the world laid before them, 
as it is by Christianity, and often inculcated upon them ; be- 
cause this moral system carries in it a good degree of e\d- 
dence for its truth, upon its being barely proposed to our 
thoughts. There is no need of abstruse reasonings and dis- 
tinctions, to comince an unprejudiced understanding, that 
there is a God who made and governs the world, and who 
will judge it in righteousness ; though they may be necessary 
to answer abstruse difficulties, when once such are raised ; 
when the very meaning of those words, which express most 
intelligibly the general doctrine of religion, is pretended to be 
uncertain, and the clear truth of the thing itself is obscured 
by the intricacies of speculation. But, to an unprejudiced 
mind, ten thousand thousand instances of design, camiot but 
prove a Designer. And it is intuitively manifest, that crea- 
tures ought to live under a dutiful sense of their Maker ; and 
that justice and charity must be his laws, to creatures whom 
he has made social, and placed in society. Indeed, the truth 
of revealed religion, peculiarly so called, is not self-evident, 
but requires external proof, in order to its being received. 
Yet inattention, among us, to revealed religion, will be found 
to imply the same dissolute immoral temper of mind, as inat- 
tention to natural religion ; because, when both are laid be- 
fore us, in the manner they are in Christian countries of 
liberty, our obligations to inquire into both, and to embrace 
both upon supposition of their truth, are obligations of the 
same nature. For, revelation claims to be the voice of God ; 
and our obligation to attend to his voice, is, surely, moral in 
all cases. And as it is insisted, that its evidence is conclu- 
sive, upon tJiorough consideration of it ; so it offers itself to us 



828 CONCLUSION. [part II. 

with manifest obvious appearances of having something more 
than human in it, and therefore in all reason requires to have 
its claims most seriously examined into. It is to be added, 
that though light and knowledge, in what manner soever 
afforded us, is equally from God ; yet a miraculous revelation 
has a peculiar tendency, from the fii'st principles of our nature, 
to awaken mankind, and inspire them ^vith reverence and 
awe: and this is a peculiar obligation, to attend to what 
claims to be so with such appearances of truth. It is therefore 
most certain, that our obligations to inquii-e seriously into the 
evidence of Christianity, and, upon supposition ©f its truth, to 
embrace it, are of the utmost importance, and moral in the 
highest and most proper sense. Let us then suppose, that 
the evidence of religion in general, and of Christianity, has 
been seriously inquired into by all reasonable men among us. 
Yet we find many professedly to reject both, upon specula- 
tive principles of infidelity. And all of them do not content 
themselves with a bare neglect of religion, and enjoying 
their imaginary freedom from its restraints. Some go much 
beyond this. They deride God's moral government over the 
world : they renounce his protection, and defy his justice : 
they ridicule and vilify Christianity, and blaspheme the Au- 
thor of it ; and take all occasions to manifest a scorn and con- 
tempt of revelation. This amounts to an active setting them- 
selves against religion ; to what may be considered as a posi- 
tive principle of irreligion ; vv^hich they cultivate within them- 
selves, and, whether they intend this effect or not, render 
habitual, as a good man does the contrary principle. And 
others, who are not chargeable vv^ith all this profiigateness, 
yet are in avowed opposition to religion, as if discovered to be 
groundless. Now admit tmg, which is the supposition we go 
upon, that these persons act upon what ihey think principles 
of reason, and otherwise they are not to be argued with ; it 
is really inconceivable, that they should imagine they clearly 
see the whole evidence of it, considered in itself, to be nothing 
at all ; nor do they pretend this. They are far indeed from 
having a just notion of its evidence ; but they would not say 
its e\idence was nothing, if they thought the sj^stem of it, 
with all its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of 
science or history. So that their manner of treating it must 
proceed, either from such kind of objections against all reli- 
gion, as have been answered or obviated in the former part of 
this Treatise ; or else from objections and difficulties, supposed 
more peculiar to Christianity. Thu», they entertain preju- 



PART II. J 



CONCLUSION. 



329 



dices against the whole notion of a revelation and miraculoua 
interpositions. They find things in Scripture, whether in in- 
cidental passages or in the general scheme of it, which ap • 
pear to them unreasonable. Thej take for granted, that if 
Christianity were true, the light of it must have been more 
general, and the evidence of it more satisfactory^, or rather 
overbearing ; that it must and would have been, in some way, 
otherwise put and left, than it is. Now, this is not imagining 
they see the evidence itself to be nothing, or inconsiderable ; 
but quite another thing. It is being fortified against the evi- 
dence, in some degree acknowledged, b}^ thinking they see 
the system of Christianity, or somewhat which appears to 
them necessarily connected with it, to be incredible or false ; 
fortified against that evidence, which might, otherwise, make 
great impression upon them. Or, lastly, if any of these per- 
sons are, upon the whole, in doubt concerning the truth of 
Christianity, their behaviour seems owing to their taking for 
granted, through strange inattention, that such doubting is, in 
a manner, the same thing as being certain against it. 

To these persons, and to this state of opinion concerning re- 
ligion, the foregoing Treatise is adapted. For, all the ge- 
neral objections against the moral system of nature having 
been obviated, it is shown, that there is not any peculiar pre- 
sumption at all against Christianity, either considered as not 
discoverable by reason, or as unlike to what is so discovered ; 
nor any worth mentioning, against it as miraculous, if any at 
all : none certainly, which can render it in the least incredible. 
It is shown, that upon supposition of a divine revelation, the 
analogy of nature renders it beforehand highly credible, I 
think probable, that many things in it must appear liable to 
great objections ; and that we must be- incompetent judges of 
hj to a great degree. This observation is, I think, unques- 
tionably true, and of the very utmost importance : but it is 
urged, as I hope it will be understood, with great caution of 
not \dlifying the faculty of reason, which is ' the candle of the 
Ijord within us though it can afford no light, where it does 
not shine : nor judge, where it has no principles to judge 
:apon. The objections here spoken of, being first answered 
in the view of objections against Christianity as a matter of 
fact, are in the next place considered as urged more immedi- 
ately against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Chris- 
ian dispensation. And it is fully made out, that they admit 

* Pi ov. XX. 27 
28* 

e 



330 



CONCLUSION. 



[part II 



of exactly the like answer, in every respect, to wnat the like 
objections against the constitution of nature admit of : that, as 
partial views give the appearance of wrong to things^ which 
upon farther consideration and knowledge of their relations to 
other things, are found just and good ; so it is perfectly credi- 
ble, that the things objected against the wisdom and goodness 
of the Christian dispensation, may be rendered instances of 
wisdom and goodness by their reference to other things be- 
yond our view : because Christianity is a scheme as much 
above our comprehension, as that of nature ; and, like that, a 
scheme in which means are made use of to accomplish ends, 
and which, as is most credible, niay be carried on by general 
laws. And it ought to be attended to, that this is not an an- 
swer taken merely or chiefly from our ignorance ; but from 
somewhat positive, which our observation shows us. For, to 
like objections, the like answer is experienced to be just, in 
numberless parallel cases. The objections against the Chris- 
tian dispensation, and the method by which it is cai'ried on, 
having been thus obviated, in general and together : the chief 
of them are considered distinctly, and the particular things 
objected to are shown credible, by their perfect analogy, each 
part, to the constitution of nature. Thus, if man be fallen 
from his primitive state, and to be restored, and infinite wis- 
dom and power engages in accomplishing our recovery ; it 
were to have been expected, it is said, that this should have 
been effected at once, and not by such a long series of means, 
and such a various economy of persons and things ; one dis- 
pensation preparatory to another, this to a farther one, and so 
on through an indefinite number of ages, before the end of the 
scheme proposed can be completely accomplished ; a scheme 
conducted hy infinite wisdom, and executed by Almighty 
power. But now, on the contrary, our finding that every 
thing in the constitution and course of nature is thus earned 
on, shows such expectations concerning revelation to be 
highly unreasonable ; and is a satisfactory answer to them, 
when urged as objections against the credibility, that the 
great scheme of Providence in the redemption of the world, 
may be of this kind, and to be accomplished in this manner. 
As to the particular method of our redemption, the appoint- 
ment of a Mediator between God and man ; this has been 
shown to be most obviously analogous to the general con- 
duct of nature, i. e. the God of nature, in appointing others to 
be the instruments of his mercy, as we experience in the 
daily course of Providence. The condition of this world 



PART II.] 



CONCLUSION. 



331 



which the doctrine of our redemption bj Christ presupposes, 
so much falls in with natural appearances, that heathen 
moralists inferred it from those appearances ; inferred, that 
human nature was fallen from its original rectitude, and, in 
consequence of this, degraded from its primitive happiness. 
Or, however this opinion came into the world, these appear- 
ances must have kept up the tradition, and confirmed the be- 
lief of it. And it was the general opinion, under the light of 
nature, that repentance and reformation, alone and by itself, 
was not sufficient to do away sin, and procure a full remission 
of the penalties annexed to it ; and as the reason of the thing 
does not at all lead to any conclusion ; so every day's expe- 
rience shows us that reformation is not, in any sort, sufficient 
to prevent the present disadvantages and miseries, which, in 
the natural course of things, God has annexed to folly and 
extravagance. Yet there may be ground to think, that the 
punishments, 'which by the general laws of divine govern- 
ment, are annexed to vice, may be prevented; that pro- 
vision may have been, even originally, made, that they should 
be prevented by some means or other, though they could not 
by reformation alone. For we have daily instances of such 
mercy, in the general conduct of nature ; compassion pro- 
vided for misery,* medicines for diseases, friends against ene- 
mies. There is provisions made, in the original constitution 
of the world, that much of the natural bad consequences of 
our follies, which persons themselves alone cannot prevent, 
may be prevented by the assistance of others ; assistance, 
which nature enables, and disposes, and appoints them to 
aiford. By a method of goodness analogous to this, when 
the world lay in wickedness, and consequently in ruin, ' God 
so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son' to 
save it ; and ' he being made perfect by suffering, became 
the aaithor of eternal salvation to all them that obey him.'| 
Indeed, neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in 
particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner in 
which -he did interpose, would be of that efficacy for recovery 
of the world, which the Scripture teaches us it was : but 
neither would reason nor analogy lead us to think, that other 
particular means would be of the efficacy, which experience 
shows they are, in numberless instances. And therefore, as 
the case before us does no . ^.dmit of experience, so that neither 
reason nor analogy can show how, or in what particular way, 



* Sermon 6th, at the Rolls. f John iii. 16, Heb, v, 9. 



332 



CONCLUSION. 



[part II 



the interposition of Christ, as revealed in Scripture, is of that 

efficacy which it is there represented to be ; this is no kind 
nor degree of presumption against its being really of that effi- 
cacy. Farther : the objections against Christianity, from the 
light of it not being universal, nor its evidence so strong as 
might possibly be given us, have been answered by the ge- 
neral analogy of nature. That God has made such variety 
of creatures, is indeed an answer to the former ; but that he 
dispenses his gifts in such variety, both of degrees and kinds, 
amongst creatures of the same species, and even to the same 
individuals at different times, is a more ob™us and full an- 
swer to it. And it is so far from being the method of Provi- 
dence, in other cases, to afford us such overbearing evidence 
as some require in proof of Christianit}^, that, on the contrarj^, 
the evidence upon which we are naturally appointed to act in 
common matters, throughout a very great part of Hfe, is 
doubtful in a high degree. And, admitting the fact, that 
God has afforded to some no more than doubtful evidence of 
religion, the same account may be given of it, as of difficul- 
ties and temptations with regard to practice. But as it is not 
impossible,* surely, that this alleged doubtfulness may be 
men's own fault, it deserves their most serious consideration, 
whether it be not so. However, it is certain that doubting 
implies a degree of evidence for that of which we doubt, and 
that this d^ree of evidence as really lays us under obliga- 
tions, as demonstrative evidence. 

The whole then of religion is throughout credible ; nor is 
there, I think, any thing relating to the revealed dispensation 
of things more different from the experienced constitution and 
course of nature, than some parts of the constitution of nature 
are from other parts of it. And if so, the only question which 
remains is, "What positive evidence can be alleged for the truth 
of Christianit}^ ? This too, in general, has been considered, 
and the objections against it estim.ated. Deduct therefore what 
is to be deducted from that evidence, upon account of any 
weight which may be thought to remain in these objections^ 
after what the analogy of nature has suggested in answer to 
them : and then consider vviiat are the practical consequences 
from all this, upon the most sceptical principles one can argue 
upon, (for I am writing to persons who entertain these piinci- 
ples :) and, upon such consideration, it \vill be obvious, that im- 
morality, as Httle excuse as it admits of in itself, is greatly 



* Page 230, &c 



PART II.J 



CONCLUSION. 



333 



aggravated, in persons who have been made acquainted with 
Christianity, whether they believe it or not ; because the moral 
system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity lays 
before us, approves itself, almost intuitively, to a reasonable 
mind, upon seeing it proposed. In the next place, with regard 
to Christianity it will be observed, that there is a middle, be- 
tween a full satisfaction of the truth of it, and the satisfaction 
of the contrary. The middle state of mind between these 
two consists in a serious apprehension that it may be true, 
joined with doubt, whether it be so. And this, upon the best 
judgment I am able to make, is as far towards speculative in- 
fidelity, as any sceptic can at all be supposed to go, who has 
had true Christianity, with the proper evidence of it, laid be- 
fore him, and has in any tolerable measure considered them. 
For I would not be mistaken to comprehend all who have 
ever heard of it; because it seems evident, that, in many 
countries called Christian, neither Christianity, nor its evi- 
dence, are fairly laid before men. And in places where both 
are, there appear to be some who have very little attended to 
either, and who reject Christianity with a scorn proportionate 
to then* inattention ; and yet are by no means without under- 
standing in other matters. Now it has been shown, that a se- 
rious apprehension that Christianity may be true, lays per- 
sons under the strictest obligations of a serious regard to it, 
throughout the whole of their life ; a regard not the same 
exactly, but in many respects nearly the same with what a 
full conviction of its truth would lay them under. Lastly ^ it 
will appear, that blasphemy and profaneness, I mean with 
regard to Christianity, are absolutely without excuse. For 
there is no temptation to it, but from the wantonness of vanity 
or mirth ; and these, considering the infinite importance of 
the subject, are no such temptations as to afford any excuse 
for it. If this be a just account of things, and yet men car* 
go on to vilify or disregard Christianity, which is to talk and 
act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood ; there is 
no reason to think they would alter their behaviour to any 
purpose, th)ugh there were a demonstration of its truth 



OP PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



I DISS I 



DISSERTATION I. 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



Whether we are to live in a future state, as it is the most 
important question which can possibh^ be asked, so it is the 
most intelligible one which can be expressed in language. 
Yet strange perplexities have been raised about the meaning 
of that identity, or sameness of person, which is implied in the 
notion of our living now and hereafter, or in any two suc- 
cessive moments. And the solution of these difficulties hath 
been stranger than the difficulties themselves. For, personal 
identity has been explained so by some, as to render the in- 
quiry concerning a future life of no consequence at all to us, 
the persons who are making it. And though few men can 
be misled by such subtleties, yet it may be proper a little to 
consider them. 

Now, when it is asked wherein personal identity consists, 
the answer should be the same as if it were asked, wherein 
consists similitude or equality ; that all attempts to define, 
would but perplex it. Yet there is no difficulty at all in as- 
certaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles being com- 
pared or \dewed together, there arises to the mind the idea of 
similitude ; or upon twice two and four, the idea of equality ; 
so likewise, upon comparing the consciousness of one's self, 
or one's own existence in any two moments, there as immedi- 
ately arises to the mind the idea of personal identity. And 
as the two former comparisons not only give the idea of simili- 
tude and equality, but also shows us, that two triangles are 
like, and twice two and four are equal ; so the latter compa- 
rison not only gives us the idea of personal identity, but also 
shows us the identity of ourselves in those two moments ; 
the present, suppose, and that immediately past; or the 
present, and that a month, a year, or twenty years past. Or, 
in other words, by reflecting upon that which is myself now, 



DISS. I.] 



OP PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



335 



and that wliich was myself twenty years ago, I discern they 
are not two, but one and the same self. 

But though consciousness of what is past does thus ascer- 
tain our personal identity to ourselves, yet, to say that it 
makes personal identity, or is necessary to our being the 
same persons, is to say, that a person has not existed a single 
moment, nor done one action, but Avhat he can remember ; 
indeed none but what he reflects upon. And one should 
really think it self-e\-ident, thai consciousness of personal 
identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, per- 
sonal identity, any more than knowledge, in any other case, 
can constitute truth, which it presupposes. 

This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from 
hence, that to be endued with consciousness, is inseparable 
from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For, tliis 
might be expressed inaccurately thus, — that consciousness 
makes personality ; and from hence it might be concluded to 
make personal identity. But though present consciousness 
of what we at present do ai:d feel, is necessary to our being 
the persons we now are ; yet present consciousness of past 
actions, or feelings, is not necessary to our being the same 
persons who performed those actions, or had those feelings. 

The inquiry, what makes vegetables the same in the com- 
mon acceptation of the word, does not appear to have any re 
lation to this of personal identity : because the word same^ 
when applied to them and to persons, is not only applied to 
different subjects, but it is also used in different senses. For 
when a man swears to the same tree, as having stood fifty 
years in the same place, he means only the same as to all the 
purposes of property and uses of common life, and not that 
the tree has been all that time the same in the strict philoso- 
phical sense of the word. For he does not know whether 
any one particle of the present tree be the same with any one 
particle of the tree which stood in the same place fifty years 
ago. And if they have not one common particle of matter, 
they cannot be the same tree, in the proper philosophic sense 
of the word same ; it being evidently a contradiction in terms, 
to say they are, when no part of their substance, and no one 
of their properties, is the same ; no part of their substance, by 
the supposition ; no one of their properties, because it is al- 
lowed that the same property cannot be transferred from one 
substance to another. And therefore, when we say the iden- 
tity or sameness of a plant consists in a continuation of the 
same life communicated under the same organization, to a 



336 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



[diss. 1. 



number of particles of matter, whether the same or not, the 
word same^ when applied to life and to organization, cannot pos- 
sibly be understood to signify, what it signifies in this very sen- 
tence, when applied to matter. In a loose and popular sense, 
then, the life, and the organization, and the plant, are justly 
said to be the same, notwithstanding the perpetual change of 
Uie parts. But in a strict and philosophical manner of speech, 
no man, no being, no mode of being, nor any thing, can be 
tlie same with that, with which it hath indeed nothing the 
same. Now, sameness is used in this latter sense when ap- 
plied to persons. The identity of these, therefore, cannot sub- 
sist with diversity of substance. 

The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I think, 
determined, is proposed by Mr. Locke in these words, Whether 
itj i. e. the same self or person, be the same identical sub- 
stance ? And he has suggested what is a m.uch better an- 
swer to the question than that which he gives it in form. 
For he defines person, a thinking intelligent beings &c. and 
personal identity the sameness of a rational being. ^ The 
question then is, whether the same rational being is the same 
substance ; which needs no answer, because being and sub- 
stance, in this place, stand for the same idea. The ground 
of the doubt, whether the same person be the same substance, 
is said to be this ; that the consciousness of our own existence 
in youth and in old age, or in any two joint successive mo- 
ments, is not the same individual action i. e. not the same 
consciousness, but different successive consciousnesses. Now 
it is strange that this should have occasioned such perplexi- 
ties. For it is surely conceivable, that a person may have 
a capacity of knowing some object or other to be the same 
now, which it was when he contemplated it formerly ; yet, 
in this case, where, by the supposition, the object is perceived 
to be the same, the perception of it in anj^ two moments can- 
not be one and the same perception. And thus, though the 
successive consciousnesses which we have of our own exist- 
ence are not the same, j'et are they consciousnesses of one 
and the same thing or object ; of the same person, self, or 
lining agent. The person, of whose existence the conscious- 
ness is felt now, and was felt an hour or a year ago, is dis- 
cerned to be, not two persons, but one and the same person ; 
and therefore is one and the same. 

Mr. Locke's observations upon this subject appear hasty ; 

* Locke's Works, vol. i. p. 146. t Locke, p. 146, 147. 



I 



DISS. I.] 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



337 



and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with suppositions^ 
which he has made relating* to it.^ But some of those hasty 
observations have been carried to a strange length by others ; 
whose notion, when traced and examined to the bottom, 
amounts, I think, to this :| ' That personality is not a perma- 
nent, but a transient thing : that it lives and dies, begins and 
ends, continually : that no one can any more remain one and 
the same person two moments together, than two successive 
moments can be one and the same moment : that our sub- 
stance is indeed continually changing ; but whether this be 
so or not, is, it seems, nothing to the purpose ; since it is not 
substance, but consciousness alone, which constitutes person- 
ality ; which consciousness, being successive, cannot be the 
same in any two moments, nor consequently the personality 
constituted by it.' And from hence it must follow, that it is 
a fallacy upon ourselves, to charge our present selves with 
any thing we did, or to imagine our present selves interested 
in any thing which befell us yesterdaj^, or that oui* present 
self will be interested in what will befall us to-morrow ; since 
our present self is not, in reality, the same ^\dth the self of 
yesterday, but another like self or person coming in its room, 
and mistaken for it ; to which another self will succeed to- 
morrow. This, I say, must follow : for if the self or person 
of to-day, and that of to-morrow, are not the same, but only 
like persons, the person of to-day is really no more interested 
in what ^vill befall the person of to-morrow, than in what will 
befall any other person. It may be thought, perhaps, that 
this is not a just representation of the opinion we are speaking 
of ; because those who maintain it allow, that a person is the 
same as far back as his remembrance reaches. And, indeed, 
they do use the words, identifij and same person. Nor ^vill 
language permit these words to be laid aside : since if they 
were, there must be, I know not what, ridiculous periphrasis 
substituted in the room of them. But they cannot, consist- 
ently with themselves, mean, that the person is really the 
same. - For it is self-evident, that the personality cannot be 
really the same, if, as they expressly assert, that in wiiich it 
consists is not the same. And as, consistently ^vith them- 
selves, they cannot, so, I think, it appears they do not, mean, 
that the person is really the same, but only that he is so in a 
fictitious sense : in such a sense only as they assert ; for this 

* Locke, p. 152, 

t See an answer to Dr. Clarke's third defence of his letter to M& 
Dodwell, 2d edit. p. 44, 56, &c. 

29 



338 



OP PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



[diss. I 



they do assert, that any number of persons whatever may be 
the same person. The bare unfolding this notion, and laj^ing 
it thus naked and open, seems the best confutation of it. 
However, since great stress is said to be put upon it, I add 
the following things ; 

Firstj This notion is absolutely contradictory to that cer- 
tain conviction, which necessarily, and every moment, rises 
within us, when we turn our thoughts upon ourselves ; when 
we reflect upon what is past, and look forward upon what is 
to come. All imagination of a daily change of that living 
agent which each man calls himself, for another, or of any 
such change throughout our whole present life, is entirely 
borne down by our natural sense of things. Nor is it possible 
for a person in his wits to alter his conduct, with regard to 
his health or affairs, from a suspicion, that though he should 
live to-morrow, he should not, however, be the same person 
he is to-day. And yet, if it be reasonable to act, with respect 
to a future life, upon this notion, that personality is transient ; 
it is reasonable to act upon it, v/ith respect to the present. 
Here then is a notion equally applicable to religion and to 
our temporal concerns ; and every one sees and feels the in- 
expressible absurdity of it in the latter case. If, therefore, 
any can take up with it in the former, this cannot proceed 
from the reason of the thing, but must be owing to an inward 
unfairness, and secret corruption of heart. 

Secondly J It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or quality^ 
but a being only which is capable of life and action, of happi- 
ness and misery. Now all beings confessedly continue the 
same, during the whole time of their existence. Consider 
then a living being now existing, and which has existed for 
any time alive : this living being m.:st have done and suf- 
fered and enjoyed, what it has done anJ suffered and enjoyed 
formerly, (this living being, I say, and not another,) as really 
as it does and suffers and enjoys, what it does and suffers and 
enjoys this instant. All these successive actions, enjoyments, 
and sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, of the 
same living being. And they are so, prior to all considera- 
tion of its remembering or forgetting ; since remembering or 
forgetting can make no alteration in the truth of past matter 
of fact. And suppose this being endued with limited powers 
of knowledge and memory, there is no more difficulty in con- 
ceiving it to have a power of knowing itself to be the same 
living being which it was some time ago, of - remembering 
some of its actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, and forgetting 



1 



DISS. I,] 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



339 



others, than in conceiving it to know, or remember, or forget 
any thing else. 

Thirdly^ Every person is conscious, that he is now the 
same person or self he was, as far back as his remembrance 
reaches ; since, when any one reflects upon a past action of 
his own, he is just as certain of the person who did that action, 
namely himself, the person who now reflects upon it, as he is 
certain that the action was at all done. Nay, very often a per- 
son's assurance of an action having been done, of which he is 
absolutely assured, arises wholly from the consciousness that 
he himself did it. And this he, person, or self, must either be a 
substance, or the property of some substance. If he, if person, 
be a substance ; then consciousness that he is the same per- 
son, is consciousness that he is the same substance. If the 
person, or he, be the property of a substance ; still conscious- 
ness that he is the same property, is as certain a proof that 
his substance remains the same, as consciousness that he re • 
mains the same substance would be; since the same property 
cannot be transferred from one substance to another. 

But though we are thus certain that we are the same 
agents, Hving beings, or substances, now, which we were as 
far back as our remembrance reaches ; yet it is asked, whether 
we may not possibly be deceived in it 1 And this question 
may be asked at the end of any den:ionstration whatever ; be- 
cause it is a question concerning the truth of perception by 
memory. And he who can doubt, whether perception by 
memory can in this case be depended upon, may doubt also, 
whether perception by deduction and reasoning, which also 
include memory, or, indeed, whether intuitive perception can. 
Here then we can go no farther. For it is ridiculous to at- 
tempt to prove the truth of those perceptions, whose truth we 
can no otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of exactly 
the same kind with them, and w^hich there is just the same 
ground to suspect ; or to attempt to prove the truth of O'lr fa- 
culties, which can no otherwise be proved, than by the use ot 
means -of those very suspected faculties themselves. 



340 



OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



[diss. II, 



DISSERTATION II. 



OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



That which renders beings capable of moral government, 
is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of percep- 
tion and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and actu- 
ated by various instincts and propensions : so also are we. 
Butj additional to this, we have a capacity of reflecting upon 
actions and characters, and making them an object to our 
thoughts ; and on doing this, we naturally and unavoidably 
approve some actions, under the peculiar \iew of their being 
virtuous and of good desert ; and disapprove others, as vicious 
and of ill desert. That we have this moral approving and 
disapproving* faculty, is certain from our experiencing it in 
ourselves, and recognising it in each other. It appears from 
our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and disap- 
probation even of feigned characters : from the words, right 
and wrong, odious and amiable, base and worthy, with man;^ 
others of like signification in all languages, applied to actions 
and characters : from the many written systems of morals 
which suppose it ; since it cannot be imagined, that all these 
authors, throughout all these treatises, had absolutely no 
meaning at all to their words, or a meaning merely chimeri- 

* This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus,t and is made use of 
as seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral fa- 
culty may be understood to have these two epithets, SoKLjxaaTiKr] and 
airo6oKii^a(7TLKr}, upon a double account ; because, upon a sui-vey of ac- 
tions, whether before or after they are done, it determines them to be 
^ood or evil ; and also because it detennines itself to be the guide of ac- 
tion and of life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural prin- 
ciples of action : in the very same manner, as speculative reason directly 
and naturally judges of speculative truth and falsehood ; and, at the 
same time, is attended with a consciousness upon reflection, that the 
natural right to judge of them belongs to it. 

t Arr. Epict. lib. i. cap. 1. 



DISS. 11.] OJ' THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



341 



cal : from our natural sense of gratitude, Avhic-h implies a dis- 
tinction between merely being the instrument of good, and 
intending it : fi'om the like distinction, every one makes, be- 
tween injury and mere harm, which Hobbes says, is peculiar 
to mankind ; and between injury and just punishment, a dis- 
tinction plainly natural, prior to the consideration of human 
laws. It is manifest, great part of common language, and of 
common behaviour over the world, is formed upon supposition 
of such a moral faculty ; whether called conscience, moral 
reason, moral sense, or divine reason : whether considered as 
a sentiment of the understanding, or as a perception of the 
heart, or, which seems the truth, as including both. Nor is 
it at all doubtful in the general, what course of action this 
faculty, or practical discerning power within us, approves, 
and what it disapproves. For, as much as it has been dis- 
puted wherein virtue consists, or whatever ground for doubt 
there may be about particulars, yet, in general, there is in 
reality a universally acknowledged standard of it. It is that, 
which all ages and all countries have made profession of in 
public ; it is that, which every man 3- ou meet, puts on the 
show of; it is that, which the primary and fundamental laws 
of all civil constitutions, over the face of the earth, make it 
their business and endeavour to enforce the practice of upon 
mankind ; namely, justice, veracity, and regard to common 
good. It being manifest then, in general, that w^e have such 
a faculty or discernment as this, it may be of use to remark 
some things, more distinctly concerning it. 

Firstj It ought to be observed, that the object of this fa- 
culty is actions,* comprehending under that name, active or 
practical principles : those principles from which men would 
act, if occasions and circumstances gave them power ; and 
which, when fixed and habitual m any person, we call, his 
character. It does not appear, that brutes have the least 
reflex sense of actions, as distinguished from events ; or that 
will and design, which constitute the very natm'e of actions 
as such', are at all an object to their perception. But to ours 
they are : and they are the object, and the only one, of the 
approving and disapproving faculty. Acting, conduct, be- 
haviour, abstracted from all regard to what is, in fact and 
event, the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of the 
moral discernment, as speculative truth and falsehood is of 

* ovSe^ aprjrr} Kai naKia — ev it€1(jCi, aWa zvtoytLo,. M. Anton. L 9. 16# 

Virtutis laus omnis in actione consistit. Cic. Off. I. 1. c. 6. 

29* 



343 



OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



^DISS. II. 



speculative reason. Intention of such and such consequences, 
indeed, is always included ; for it is part of the action itself * 
but though the intended good or bad consequences do noi 
follow, we have exactly the same sense of the action as if 
they did. In like manner, we think well or ill of characters, 
abstracted from all consideration of the good or the evil, which 
persons of such characters have it actually in their power to 
do. We never, in the moral way, applaud or blame either 
ourselves or others, for what we enjoy or what we suffer, or 
for having impressions made upon us which we consider as 
altogether out of our power ; but only for what we do, or 
would have done, had it been in our power : or for what we 
leave undone which we might have done, or would have left 
undone though we could have done it. 

Secondly^ Our sense or discernment of actions, as morally 
good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them as of 
good or ill desert. It may be difficult to explain this percep- 
tion, so as to answer all the questions which may be asked 
concerning it ; but every one speaks of such and such actions 
as deserving punishment ; and it is not, I suppose, pretended, 
that they have absolutelj^ no meaning at all to the expres- 
sion. Now, the meaning plainly is, not that w^e conceive it 
for the good of society, that the doer of such actions, should 
be made to suffer. For if unhappily it were resolved, that a 
man who, by some innocent action was infected with the 
plague, should be left to perish, lest, by other people coming 
near him, the infection should spread ; no one would say, he 
deserved this treatment. Innocence and ill desert are incon- 
sistent ideas. Ill desert always supposes guilt ; and if one 
be not part of the other, yet they are evidently and naturally 
connected in our mind. The sight of a man in misery raises 
our compassion towards him ; and, if this misery be inflicted 
on him by another, our indignation against the author of it. 
But when we are informed, that the sufferer is a villain, and 
is punished only for his treachery or crueltj^ ; our compassion 
exceedingly lessens, and, in many instances, our indignation 
wholly subsides. Now, what produces this effect, is the con- 
ception of that in the sufferer, which we call ill desert. Upon 
considering then, or \dewing together, our notion of vice and 
that of misery, there results a third, that of ill desert. And 
thus there is in human creatures an association of the two 
ideas, natural and moral evil, wickedness and punishment. 
If this association were merely artificial or accidental, it were 
nothing ; but being most unquestionably natural, it greatJy 



DISS. IJ.] 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



343 



concerns us lo attend to it, in^Jtead of endeavoiing to explain 
it away. 

I* may be observed farther, concerning our perception of 
good and of ill desert, that the former is very weak with 
respect to common instances of viriue. One reason of which 
may be, that it does not appear to a spectator, how far such 
instances of virtue proceed from a vntuous principle, or in 
what degree this principle is prevalent ; since a very wea^ 
regard to \irtue may be sufficient to make men act well in 
many common insteouces. And on the other hand, our per- 
ception of ill desert in vicious actions lessens, in proportion to 
the temptations men are thought to have had to such vicea. 
For, vice in human creatures consisting chiefly in the absence 
or want of the ^-irtuous principle, though a man be overcome, 
suppose, by tortures, it does not from thence appear, to whdt 
degree the virtuous principle was wanting. All that appears, 
is that he had it not in such a degree, as to prevail over the 
temptation : but possibly he had it in a degree, which would 
nave rendered him proof against common temptations. 

Thirdly. Our perception of vice and ill deserts arises from, 
and is the result of, a comparison of actions with the nature 
and capacities of the agent. For. the mere neglect of doing 
what we ought to do, would, in rnanj^ cases, be determined by 
all men to be in the highest degree vicious. And this deter- 
mination must arise from such comparison, and be the result 
of it : because such neglect would not be vicious in creatures 
of other natures eaid capacities, as brutes, x4.nd it is the same 
also with respect to positive vices, or such as consist in doing 
what we ought not. For, every one has a different sense of 
harm done by an idiot, madman, or child, and by one of mature 
and common imderstanding ; though the action of both, 
including the mtention, which is part of the action, be the 
same : as it ma}^ be, since idiots and madmen, as well as 
children, are capable, not only of doing rniscliief, but also of 
intending it. Now, this difference must arise from somewhat 
discerned in the nature or capacities of one, which renders the 
action vicious ; and the want of which in the other, renders 
the same action innocent, or less vicious : and this plainly 
supposes a comparison, whether reflected upon or not, between 
the action and capacities of the agent, previous to our deter- 
mining an action to be vdcious. And hence arises a proper 
application of the epithets, incongruous, unsuitable, dispro- 
portionate, unfit, to actions which our moral faculty determines 
to be vicious. 



S44 



OP THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



[diss. II. 



Fourthly^ It deserves to be consicieredj whether men are 
more at liberty, in point of morals, to make themselves misera- 
ble \\athout reason, than to make other people so ; or disso- 
lutely to neglect their own greater good, for the sake of a 
present lesser gratification, than they are to neglect the good 
of others, whom natm^e has committed to their care. It 
should seem, that a due concern about our own interest or 
happiness, and a reasonable endeavor to secure and promote 
it, which is, I think, very much the meaning of the word 
prudence in our language : it should seem, that this is \irtue, 
and the contrary behaviour faulty and blameable : since, in 
the calmest way of reflection, we approve of the first, and 
condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves and others. 
This approbation and disapprobation are altogether different 
from mere desire of our OAvn, or of their happiness, and from 
sorrow upon niissing it. For the object or occasion of this 
last kind of perception, is satisfaction or uneasiness ; whereas 
the object of the first is active behaviour. In one case, what 
our thoughts fxx upon is our condition ; in the other, our con- 
duct. It is true, indeed, that nature has not given us so sen- 
sible a disapprobation of imprudence and folly, either in our- 
selves or others^ as of falsehood, injustice, and crueltj^ ; I 
suppose, because that constant habitual sense of private inte- 
rest and good, which we alwaj's carry about with us, renders 
such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less wanting, to 
keep us from imprudently neglecting our own happiness, and 
foolishly injuring ourselves, than it is necessary and wanting 
to keep us from injuring others, to whose good we cannot have 
so strong and constant a regard; and also, because nnpru- 
dence and folly, appearing to bring its own punishment, more 
immediately and constantly than injurious behaviour, it less 
needs the additional punishment which would be inflicted upon 
it by others, had they the same sensible indignation against it. 
as against injustice, and fraud, and cruelty. Besides, unhap- 
piness being in itself the natural object of compassion, the 
unhappiness which people bring upon themselves, though it 
be wilfully, excites in us some pity for them ; and this, of 
course, lessens our displeasure against them. But still it is 
matter of experience, that we are formed so as to reflect very 
severely upon the greater instances of imprudent neglect and 
foolish rashness, both in ourselves and others. In instances 
of this kind, men often say of themselves with remorse, and 
of others with some indignation, that they deserve to suffer 
such calamities, because they brought them upon themselves 



0 



DISS. II.] 



OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



345 



and would not take warning*. Particularly when persons 
come to poverty and distress by a long course of extrava- 
gance, and after frequent admonitionsj though without false- 
hood or injustice ; we plainly do not regard such people as 
like objects of compassion, with those who are brought into 
the same condition by unavoidable accidents. From these 
things it appears, that prudence is a species of virtue, and 
folly of vice : meaning by folly ^ somewhat quite different from 
mere incapacity ; a thoughtless want of that regard and 
attention to our own happiness, which we had capacity for. 
And this the word properly includes, and, as it seems, in its 
usual acceptation ; for we scarce apply it to brute creatures. 

However, if any person be disposed to dispute the matter, 
I shall very willingly give him up the words virtue and t'tce, 
as not applicable to prudence and folly ; but must beg leave 
to insist, that the faculty within us, which is the judge of ac- 
tions, approves of prudent actions and disapproves imprudent 
ones ; I saj^, prudent and imprudent actions as such, and con- 
sidered distinctlj^ from the happiness or misery which they 
occasion. And by the way, this observation may help to 
determine, what justness there is in that objection against re- 
ligion, that it teaches us to be interested and selfish. 

FifthlVj Without inquiring how far, and in vvhat sense, 
virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the want 
of it ; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence, and the 
want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the whole of virtue 
and vice. For If this were the case, in the review of one's 
own character, or that of others, our moral understanding 
and moral sense would be indifferent to every thing, but the 
degrees in which benevolence prevailed, and the degrees in 
which it was wanting. That is, we should never approve of 
benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor disap- 
prove injustice and falsehood upon any other account, than 
merely as an overbalance of happiness was foreseen likely to 
be produced by the first, and of misery by the second. But 
now, on the contrary, suppose two men competitors for any 
thing whatever, which would be of equal advantage to each 
of them ; though nothing indeed would be more impertinent, 
than for a stranger to busy himself to get one of them, prefer- 
red to the other ; yet such endeavor would be virti^e, in behalf 
of a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all consideration of 
distant consequences : as that example of gratitude, and the 
cultivation of friendship, would be of general good to the 
world. Again, suppose one man should, by fraud or violence, 



346 



OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE* 



[diss. II 



take from another the fruit of his labor with intent to give it to 
a third, who, he thought, would have as much pleasure from 
it as would balance the pleasure w^hich the first possessor 
would have had in the enjoyment, and his vexation in the loss 
of it : suppose also, that no bad consequences would follow ; 
yet such an action would surely be vicious. Nay, farther, 
were treachery, violence, and injusticCj no other^vise vicious, 
than as foreseen likely to produce an overbalance of misery to 
society ; then^ if in any case a man could procure to himself 
as great advantage by an act of injustice, as the whole fore- 
seen inconvenience, likely to be brought upon others by it, 
would amount to, such a piece of injustice would not be faulty 
or vicious at all ; because it would be no more than, in any 
other case, for a man to prefer his own satisfaction to another's 
in equal degrees. The fact then appears to be, that we are 
constituted so as to condemn falsehood, unprovoked violence, 
injustice, and to approve of benevolence to some preferably to 
others, abstracted from all consideration which conduct is 
likeliest to produce an overbalance of happiness or misery. 
And therefore, were the author of nature to propose nothing 
to himself as an end but the production of happiness, were 
his moral character merely that of benevolence ; yet ours is 
not so. Upon that supposition, indeed, the only reason of his 
giving us the above-mentioned approbation of benevolence to 
some persons rather than to others, and disapprobation of 
falsehood, improvoked violence, and injustice, must be, that he 
foresaw this constitution of our nature would produce more 
happiness, than forming us v/ith a temper of mere genera] 
benevolence. But still, since this is our constitution, false- 
hood, violence, injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence 
to some preferably to others, virtue, abstracted from all consi- 
deration of the overbalance of evil or good which they may 
appear likely to produce. 

Now, if liuman creatures are endued with such a moral 
nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral faculty, 
the natural object of which is actions ; moral government 
must consist in rendering them happy and unhappy, in 
rewarding and punishing them, as they follow, neglect, or 
depart from, ^ the moral rule of action interwoven m their 
nature, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ;^ in * 
rewarding and punishing them upon account of their so doing. 

I am not sensible that I have, in this fiftli observation, con- 
tradicted what any author designed to assert. But some of 

* Part ii. Chap. 6. p. 165, 



9ISS. II.] 



OP THE NATURE OP VIRTUE. 



347 



^reat and distinguished merit have, I think, expressed them- 
selves in a manner, which maj occasion some danger to care- 
less readers, of imagining the whole of virtue to consist in 
singly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, at 
promoting the happiness of mankind in the present state ; 
and the whole of vice, in doing v/hat they foresee, or might 
foresee, is likely to produce an overbalance of unhappiness in 
It ; than which mistakes, none can be conceived more tenible 
For it is certain, that some of the most shocking instances of 
jnjustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of persecution, 
may, in many supposable cases, not have the appearance of 
being likely to produce an overbalance of misery in the pre- 
sent state ; perhaps sometimes may have the contrary appear- 
ance. For this reflection might easily be carried on ; but I 

forbear. The happiness of the world is the concern of 

Him, who is the Lord and the proprietor of it ; nor do we 
know what we are about, when we endeavor to promote the 
good of mankind in any waj^s but those which he has direct- 
ed ; that is, indeed, in all ways not contrary to veracity and 
justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persons really 
endeavoring, m some sort, to do good without regard to these. 
But the truth seems to be, that such supposed endeavors pro- 
ceed, almost always, from ambition, the spirit of part}^, or 
some indirect principle, concealed perhaps in great measure 
from persons themselves. And though it is our business and 
our duty to endeavor, within the bounds of veracity and jus- 
tice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, and even cheerful- 
ness and diversion of our fellow-creatures ; yet, from our short 
views, it is greatly uncertain whet! .er this endeavor ^\nll, in 
particular instances, produce an overbalance of happiness 
upon the whole ; since so many and distant things must come 
into the account. And that which makes it our duty, is, that 
there is some appearance that it will, and no positive appear- 
ance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary side ; and alsOj 
that such benevolent endeavor is a cultivation of that most 
excellent of all virtuous principles, the active principle of be- 
nevolence.' 

However, though veracity, as w^ell as justice, is to be our 
rule of life, it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in 
'he way of some plain men, that the use of commaon formes of 
speech generally understood, cannot be falsehood ; and, in 
general, that there can be no designed falsehood Vvdthout de- 
signing to deceive. It must iike^vise be observed, that, in 
numberless cases, a man may be under the strictest obligations 



348 



OP THE NATURE OP VIRTUE. 



[diss, II 



to what he foresees will deceive, \\^thout his intending it. Foi 
It IS impossible not to foresee, that the words and actions of 
men in different ranks and employments, and of different edu- 
cations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other ; and it 
cannot but be so, whilst they ^vill judge with the utmost care- 
lessness, as they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, 
enough informed to be competent judges of, even though they 
considered it wiih great attention. 



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